


Over My Dead Body

by Defira



Series: Mage Dominion [1]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Anal Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Seduction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-03
Updated: 2011-10-12
Packaged: 2017-10-24 07:03:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/260453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Defira/pseuds/Defira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"<i>Hawke is convinced there’s a thing going between Anders and his younger sibling, and is fucking pissed off. The possessed apostate and his little sister? Over his dead body! Anders needs to be stopped before too much damage is done to little Hawke! But easier said than done, they keep talking. And flirting. And doing… things (or is it just Hawke’s imagination?). As different ideas on how to end it fail, Isabela suggests that Hawke must seduce Anders himself.</i>"</p><p>As prompted on k!meme, with a specific request for a BAMF Hawke who was utterly inept at seduction, having usually had sexual partners throwing themselves at them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Challenge

“You don’t know how lucky you are.” The words were soft, spoken affectionately, and it was most definitely a bedroom voice. Garrett had played the part of charming rake with enough girls in his time to recognise the sound of another man slipping into the role of comforting, intimate friend. “To have someone who loved you and could help you. Most mages would kill for that.”

“You remind me of him.” Bethany’s voice was equally as soft as Anders’, warm and gentle and soothing and…

Fuck. No. No, no, _no_. Over his dead body. Didn’t matter how useful- or handsome- their newest acquisition to the group was, no apostate who lived in a sewer was going anywhere near his baby sister. And if Bethany knew what was good for her, she’d turn away from Anders right now before Garrett locked her in the basement for the rest of the year. It didn’t matter that they didn’t have a basement at Gamlen’s house, he’d damn well dig one; just to keep her away from charming, handsome apostates with woeful backstories that seemed to induce the need to want to hug him.

“The same strength and conviction, tempered by gentleness.”

“I’m not gentle, Bethany.”

Garrett’s temper spiked higher- _did Bethany just sigh dreamily or was it just his imagination?_ \- and he clenched his fists at his sides as he kept walking. If he turned around now and yelled, it would be obvious he’d been eavesdropping on their conversation. But really? _I’m not gentle?_ That was straight out of the book of ‘ _Classic ways to lure gullible women_ ’ which _he_ was so fond of. Mysterious stranger, add a hint of danger and mystery and _bam_ \- he was set for the night with a bedmate or two. To think of that brooding, gorgeous mage turning those same tricks on his naïve, baby sister…

Wait, had he just called Anders gorgeous?

He felt eyes on him and glanced sideways. Isabela was walking beside him again, and her lips were twitching as if she was resisting the urge to smirk.

“What?” he snapped.

“Something on your mind, Hawke?” The knowing way she said those words set his teeth on edge, as if she knew full well what was irritating him.

“Sod off, Bela,” he muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets.

She chuckled throatily. “Aw, honey, are we a little grumpy about little Bethany’s terrible attempts at flirting?” Behind them Anders said something quietly and Bethany laughed, far too loudly and obviously. Garrett could probably have snapped metal between his teeth at that point, if the tension in his jaw was anything to go by.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Ooh, has winter come early? No? Well, then, that ice I can feel in the air must be coming from you, sweet thing. Little overprotective, are we?”

He growled deep in his throat. “If you don’t shut up sometime very soon, I will-”

“Oh, I have an idea! Why don’t we all go up to the Blooming Rose, and you and I can have a romp to get your stress levels down to only marginally fatal, and the two of them can have awkward, tender sex in the next room?”

“ _What?_ ” At his shout, people in the market around them glanced over at him in alarm, and several changed their direction so they didn’t cross paths with him. Behind him, Anders and Bethany had gone quiet, which was one slight relief.

Isabela’s delighted laugh was more of a cackle of glee. “Aha! Caught you out. You are playing the stupidly macho, overprotective brother card. You’re as transparent as glass, sweet thing.”

He scowled, and glanced over his shoulder to make sure there was enough distance between him and Bethany before he hissed “She should know better. He’s just going to use her, break her heart. Just look at him! I know his type.”

Isabela gave him a shrewd look. “I daresay you don’t, Garrett,” she said cryptically, sashaying away with a singsong goodbye to their other companions. He ran a hand over his face in frustration as he watched her go, annoyed that she had felt she could read him so easily.

“What was that all about?” Anders said, coming up beside him with Bethany trailing eagerly along behind. Garrett could have cursed, seeing the starry-eyed look she was giving the mage.

“Nothing,” he snapped, ignoring the way Anders raised his eyebrows at his tone. Huh, his eyebrows weren’t the same reddish gold as the rest of his hair; they were much more like burnt gold… He shook himself. “We should be getting home. We’ve done enough today.”

The two mages tried to include him in their conversation, but after a few snappish, one word answers they gave up. At Gamlen’s, Bethany went up the stairs first, hesitating in the doorway for a moment to glance at Anders with a shy wave- and the stupid git _nodded_ to her, a small smile playing across his mouth. Was he _trying_ to get _killed?_ Did he not realise that he, terrifying older brother, had just seen the entire exchange between the two of them?

When Bethany closed the door, Anders turned back to him, that small smile still lingering on his lips- _damn, but he did have gorgeous lips, for a man_ \- and hesitated when he saw the look on Garrett’s face.

“Something the matter, Hawke?”

 _How_ did he _not_ realise? Did he honestly think that he wouldn’t notice the flirting and the little glances they threw one another? Had he never had to worry about older brothers before, and didn’t know how much peril he was putting himself in? When he didn’t answer, a tiny crease appeared between Anders’ brows and he said “Hawke?”

Garrett finally scowled. “I’m onto you,” he said quietly, with as much menace as he could muster. He just saw the flicker of surprise that crossed through the mage’s amber eyes, before he spun on his heel and stalked into the house after Bethany.

And if he took satisfaction in slamming the door closed very loudly, he didn’t let it show.

***

“What’s it like having to fight an _ogre?_ ” She was young and dumb, blonde and blessed enough in looks that he wouldn’t have to close his eyes and pretend she was someone else in a couple of hours’ time. And she was quite pointedly sucking on the tip of her finger, the gesture supposed to feign wide eyed curiosity to the casual observer but with the look she was giving him just then, it was obvious she was expressing her desire to suck on something _else_.

Garrett was hardly even looking at her. “It’s hard,” he said disinterestedly, his attention instead on the table in the far corner of the Hanged Man where his friends were all gathered for another evening of gambling and drinking and general lechery. It was exactly the kind of gathering that Bethany had no right in being present at, and yet he’d had to drag her along at the insistence of their mother.

 _“She needs to spend more time in the world, Garrett.”_ The words sounded scolding even hours later. _“She’s not a child, and you need to stop treating her like one. She is a young woman who needs to have adult friends and pastimes. You can’t hide her away forever.”_

Screw that. If the alternative to having her locked away for the rest of her life was having her sitting far too close to certain golden haired mages who were paying her far too much attention, then he’d just have to apologise profusely before he locked her in the basement. Which he had yet to dig.

 _Must buy a shovel,_ he mused silently.

“Hard?” Her voice was breathy and she put far too much emphasis on that word. She leaned forward on the bar, smooshing her not insufficient cleavage together to try and draw his eye. “Well, then, you must be very _strong_ and _capable_ to have managed something so… hard. I can tell that you’re a very…” She paused and batted her eyelashes at him for dramatic effect. “… _talented man_.”

She was handing him sex on a silver platter. Two weeks ago he would have been dragging her upstairs for a few minutes pleasant diversion- or if he’d been feeling saucy, a few minutes in the alley behind the bar. Instead he barely heard her, or noticed her pouty lips and less than subtle innuendos. How could he, when Anders had clearly paid no attention to his warning whatsoever, if his glances across the bar and the occasional smirk were anything to go by?

The man was an idiot. There was no other explanation for why he would look at him with such an obvious challenge in his eyes after he’d gone to the effort of warning him off.

He gritted his teeth furiously when he saw Anders lean in too close to Bethany, whispering something for her ears alone. As she burst into fits of giggles, the mage looked up again and caught him staring at the two of them. The look on his face was positively devilish, and the smile that crept over his face seemed predatory. It was a look that said he knew _exactly_ what he was doing to Hawke, and that he had no intention of ending his flirtation with Bethany just because he objected to it.

 _Oh, game on, mage._

A hand was pressed into his stomach, and he looked down to see the blonde stroking his belly. She was all but rubbing herself against him in the middle of the crowded taproom, the offer of sex written in her eyes. “I have a room,” she whispered sultrily.

Not so subtle after all. He shrugged her hand away and collected the drinks he’d come to the bar for in the first place. “Maybe some other time,” he said, marching back towards the table to save his sister from the charming apostate before it was too late.

Instead of taking the seat that Merrill had saved for him on the other side of the table, he quite pointedly dragged a chair closer with his foot and wedged it between Anders and Bethany. “Drinks!” he announced merrily, dropping them a little harder than he’d intended to and sloshing ale all over the table top and his hands. There was a chorus of cheers at the arrival of the drinks, and nobody commented as he climbed over the back of the chair- the gap between Anders and Bethany had only been large enough to fit the chair, not to allow for leg space- and took his place at the table.

He couldn’t resist looking sideways at Anders, trying desperately not to smirk and reveal his triumph at having thwarted the mage’s attempts to seduce his sister. His glee deflated slightly when Anders didn’t seem the least bit perturbed, conversing with Varric on the other side as if Hawke hadn’t just quite obviously outwitted him. Bethany, on the other hand, was quite definitely sulking, if the dark glances she was shooting at him were any indication.

“Who’s your new friend?” Isabela said archly, dragging two of the drinks across the table and handing one to Fenris.

Distracted, Garrett shook his head. “What?”

“The blonde at the bar,” Isabela said slowly, as if speaking to an idiot. “The one with the big tits and the finger sucking? Who tried to grope you in front of everyone?”

“Oh, her.” Garrett risked a look over his shoulder, to see that she was still staring after him. When she noticed him looking she brightened immediately, tossing her hair and leaning against the bar so that her breasts were thrust forward tantalisingly. Her tongue even darted out, a flash of pink against her lips. “I don’t know. I didn’t ask her name.”

“I think the point she’s making is that she doesn’t need to know your name,” Varric said wryly. Looking back to the table, Garrett scowled when he realised everyone was looking at the blonde and her less than subtle display.

“Doesn’t matter,” Garrett said, taking a swig of his drink. “She’s not the kind of girl I’m interested in.”

Beside him, Bethany snorted. “Since when? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you not jump at an… er, _opportunity_ like that.”

“Oh, no, sweet thing, it’s a matter of quality,” Isabela said in a motherly tone. “See, she’s being far too obvious, which you always have to be wary about. Your darling brother doesn’t want just a quick fuck, he wants-”

“Sweet fucking Maker, stop right there!” He slammed his drink onto the table top to emphasis his point. “One, I don’t really want to hear my sexual preferences discussed as general topics of conversation, and two, my sister definitely does not need to hear _anything_ about sex!”

“Although it’s a topic you’re clearly well acquainted on,” Anders murmured at his side. “You know, if shameless doxies picked up drunk in a bar actually count as sexual encounters. Which they don’t.”

For some reason that riled him up even more than Isabela’s comment. “And why not?” he snapped.

Anders’ eyes were dark with mischief, that predatory smile still firmly in place. “No challenge,” he murmured.

“Anders, you are of course completely and utterly wrong,” Isabela declared loudly, lifting her tankard in the air to illustrate her commitment. “There is nothing better than drunken, hard, fast, dirty sex with a stranger. A quick fuck in a back room can be just the thing sometimes.”

“Oh Maker, you did not just say that in front of my sister,” Garrett muttered, burying his head in his hands.

“What’s the matter, Garrett?” He could practically hear Anders’ smirk. “We’re all adults here. Nothing wrong with talking about something pleasant and natural while amongst friends.”

That smug _bastard!_ So now it wasn’t enough that he was charming the pants off of poor little, didn’t-know-any-better Bethany, now he had to brag about it as if it were already a Maker given fact? And while he couldn’t blame Beth for succumbing to the charming smiles and honeyed words of… wait, where had that come from? He mentally shook himself. Anders was clearly a menace, and it was quite clearly his intent to seduce Bethany regardless of whether or not he objected to the match.

Well, the mage had met his equal. Garrett was never one to back away from a challenge at the best of times, and if Anders thought he would simply sit back and watch while his baby sister had her heart broken and her body used by a silver tongued rake, he had vastly underestimated him.

“Why do I get the feeling there’s not particularly anything natural about what goes on in your bed?” he said snidely, attempting to shame the mage into silence.

It didn’t work. If anything, from the gleam in his eyes, Anders was delighted that he’d seemingly taken the bait. “I can assure you, Garrett, that I’ve never had any complaints about my use of magic to stimulate things in the bedroom.”

“Amen to that,” Isabela said with a dreamy sigh. “That electricity trick… Oooh…”

Garrett blinked twice as the words sank in. “Wait, so… you and Isabela?”

Anders lent back in the chair, a smirk curling the corners of his mouth. “Well, it wasn’t _just_ me and Isabela. It was a fairly crowded evening- I had to be creative with such an attentive audience to deal with, hence…” He trailed off, before a little spark shot from his fingers and scorched the table top. Isabela moaned appreciatively and his smirk widened.

“Just the sound I did _not_ want to hear,” Aveline said, her sigh exasperated.

“Amen to that,” Varric muttered.

Scowling, and refusing to admit that he was more than a little curious about what could have Isabela carrying on like that in the middle of a crowded taproom, Garrett said “Well, I’ll leave you to your magic tricks, Sparkle Fingers.” If the name stung, Anders didn’t show it. Damn- one more point to the mage. “Personally, I take much more satisfaction in knowing that I can bring a partner to orgasm without resorting to sleight of hand. At least I know that it’s all my _hard_ work.”

“Blessed Andraste, someone kill me now,” Bethany moaned, banging her head on the table top.

“So,” Anders drawled, his expression so decadently smug, “by your standards, using magic is cheating at sex, is it? The equivalent of faking it?”

 _Bloody Maker, his voice is like honey. That can’t be right._ “All I’m saying is that a real man wouldn’t have to resort to magic in order to please a lover. It’s a cheap shot, for those who don’t possess the skills to satisfy otherwise.”

He was staring straight at him, triumphant in the knowledge that there was no way Anders could _possibly_ have a response to that.

“Varric, can we _please_ go up to your room and leave these two here?” Bethany sounded almost desperately.

“Diamondback in Varric’s room!” Isabela crowed gleefully. “Lose a hand and lose your clothes, house rules apply! We can leave these two to finish flirting and get the game set up while we wait.”

At first Garrett assumed Isabela was referring to Anders and Bethany, and he started to scowl. Then he noticed the knowing looks the others were casting at him, and the furious pout on Bethany’s face as she jumped to her feet and flounced up the stairs.

“Wait, you don’t…” He trailed off and then leapt upright so quickly that his chair toppled backwards. “You think _what?_ no, there is _no_ flirting going on, we aren’t flirting!”

At the chuckle that came from behind him, he spun to face the ridiculously smug mage, who was climbing from his chair as if to follow the others upstairs.

“ _You_ ,” Garrett hissed, grabbing him by the front of his jacket and dragging him forward, “you will leave my sister alone, you wretch!”

Anders laughed again, and Garrett realised he’d pulled him so close that he could feel his breath fanning against his skin. “Oh, but didn’t you hear Isabela? I’m not flirting with your sister, apparently I’ve been flirting with _you._ ”

There was something disarmingly intimate about the moment, about being this close to him- the way his amber eyes sparkled with merriment, the way his breath brushed his lips like a phantom’s touch, the way his smell wrapped around him. Huh, elfroot and leather was apparently a very potent scent, if the way it made his head light was anything to go off of. Some of his hair had come loose from that messy way he tied it back, and it hung between them, drifting in front of Anders’ eyes. His fingers itched to fix it.

He abruptly realised that he’d been staring, and worse, staring silently. Scowling, Garrett let go of the jacket with a shove and Anders stumbled back a step to land against the table. Something dark and challenging flickered to life in his eyes as he straightened and brushed himself off. “Something the matter, darling?”

The endearment sent his temperature through the roof. “ _Don’t,_ ” he snarled, “ever call me that again. And keep your hands to yourself around my sister. She’s too naïve to know about men like you; if you break her heart I’ll break your neck.”

Anders smirked as he adjusted his cuffs. “Ah, but you forget- healing hands. That sort of threat doesn’t really mean a lot to me.” He held a hand up as if he were inspecting it, and another spark jumped between his fingers. “Goodness me, how embarrassing. Losing control in public like that.”

Garrett was not insanely curious about the spark. Not one bit. “Just stay away from Bethany,” he growled, clenching his fists at his sides.

A hint of annoyance and exasperation flashed across Anders’ face, but then he was smiling smoothly and darkly as if it had never been there. “Your sister is a grown woman, Garrett. I don’t think she appreciates you prying into her romantic endeavours. She’s quite capable of making sensible decisions without your interference.”

Sneering, Garrett said “Of course, you _would_ say that, given that you’re trying to get into her pants in the first place!”

Anders stared at him for a moment before doing the last thing Garrett expected him to do- he chuckled. “Andraste’s knickerweasels, don’t you ever get bored of this? The hulking, terrifying big brother routine? I have to say, Garrett, you’re terribly clichéd and predictable. No originality, no élan.”

He frowned. “What are you-”

“I imagine it worked well back in Lothering, little country town where everybody knew to be afraid of big, bad Garrett Hawke. But I hate to tell you, _darling_.” He stressed the word heavily and leant in far too close to whisper the rest. Garrett found himself unable to move, his jaw clenching when he felt warm air curling against his ear. _It’s another challenge_ , he told himself firmly. _If you flinch away from him, he wins_.

“You’re not in Lothering anymore,” Anders murmured, so close that his lips brushed against the curve of his ear. Garrett froze. “And I think you’ll find that things work _quite_ differently out here in the real world.”

Breathing was impossible just then, for even the tiniest gulp of air filled his lungs with the heady scent of the mage. Leather and elfroot and the odd musty smell that must be coming from the feathers, and there was a hint of soap and something tangy and earthy that had to be Anders’ own unique scent.

 _No wonder Beth goes so silly around him,_ he thought dazedly.

Just when he thought that the moment had stretched on for too long, and _sweet flaming Andraste_ , maybe Isabela was right and they _were_ flirting, Anders straightened, his face a picture of complete innocence.

“But this is all harmless banter, of course,” he said, without a hint of a smirk. He turned and made his way towards the stairs, and at the last minute called over his shoulder “I wonder if Bethany has saved me a seat.”


	2. An Infatuation

Garrett stormed into Varric’s room too late to stop Anders from sliding into the seat beside his sister- who, by the sunny look on her face, was delighted with this latest development. The only other seat left was near the head of the table between Isabela and Varric, and he slumped into it angrily.

Varric was busy shuffling the cards with consummate skill, flicking them from hand to hand with the occasional trick move where he caught them out of the air. Isabela, on the other hand, was smiling knowingly at him, her chin resting in her hand while her eyes glittered with mischief.

“Having fun, Bela?” he gritted out, dragging forward a new tankard from the centre of the table.

“At your expense, darling Garrett? Perish the thought!” At the sound of the same pet name that Anders had mockingly used on him a minute earlier, his head snapped up and she cackled delightedly when he scowled. “Oh, maybe just a little.”

He took a long pull on the drink to hide how flummoxed he felt. “Good to know my humiliation is a source of such delight for you. Did you eavesdrop on the whole conversation, or just the really embarrassing parts?”

“Oh, little Garrett,” she said fondly, rubbing her hand across the back of his shoulders. “Are we feeling stressed and confused by the smouldering looks being thrown our way by the dashing mage?”

He clenched his jaw as he very deliberately did not look to the end of the table where he could hear Bethany giggling while Anders spoke in hushed tones. “You are completely delusional, as usual. I’m upset because I’m worried about Bethany.”

Isabela laughed as Varric began to flick the cards into even piles, one for each of them at the table. “Sweetness, you’re so tense right now that we could shove a piece of coal up your ass and get a diamond five minutes later. Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to go get the blonde tart from downstairs for some stress relief? She’d fit under the table quiet easily, and I think she was offering to-”

“ _No!_ ” he snapped, glaring at the rest of them when they looked at him curiously. “Just start the damned game.”

Cards were collected, and there was the expected round of groans and gleeful chuckles as everyone began to sort their hand into something usable and something that would hopefully protect them from the threat of public nudity. Garrett didn’t have the worst hand ever, but it certainly wasn’t fantastic. His only halfway decent card was the lyrium prince, and even that was the lowliest of the princes. Hopefully someone had a worse hand than he did.

Surprisingly, the first person to fold in that round was Varric, his exit raising not a few eyebrows around the table as he graciously shucked his longcoat with a bow. Bethany was next, her luck as appalling as her skill, and she giggled ferociously as she untied the red scarf from around her neck and placed it on the table; she was quickly followed by Merrill, who seemed so utterly surprised to have her pair of twos knocked out by Isabela’s blood king. Garrett clung to his high card for as long as possible, breathing a sigh of relief when Aveline bowed out next and dumped her gloves on the table with a frown. But then Fenris had twin queens, a laughably easy defeat of his single prince, and with as much dignity as he could muster he quickly unlaced his leather jerkin and threw it over the back of the chair.

He made sure not to look anywhere near Anders as he did so.

And then of course, Anders was the next to go, his high run narrowly beaten by Isabela’s by a single card; Bethany and Merrill made appropriate ‘oohs’ at how close he’d come to staying in the game.

With a melodramatic sigh, Anders stood and reached for the chain that held the front of his feathered jacket closed. “I should have known you’d want to get my clothes off a second time, Isabela” he said with mock dismay, a wicked smirk playing over his lips as he fiddled slowly with the latch.

Garrett was trying very hard not to watch, but he told himself it would be far more obvious that he was uncomfortable if he continued to look away from the mage. So he smiled thinly and casually took a drink from his tankard even as his pulse began to quicken when the jacket slid leisurely from Anders’ shoulders.

He breathed a sigh of relief when Anders didn’t make a move to remove the shapeless brown undercoat that he wore beneath his feathered jacket. It was a shallow victory, because even as he watched, Bethany reached over to stroke the feathers once the jacket was dumped on the growing pile of clothing in the centre of the table. Her giggle grated on his nerves more than he could ever have believed possible.

Feeling eyes on him, his glare moved from his sister- and across to Anders. The mage was watching him intently, something dark and predatory in his gaze; when Garrett met his eyes, he smirked again and sat back slowly, hooking his arms over the back of the chair while he stared. It was like another one of their bizarre challenges, and Garrett couldn’t have looked away even if his life depended on it. It was crucially important that the mage look away first, that Anders be the one to admit defeat in their staring contest.

Why? He had no goddamn idea why. It just seemed like a good idea.

Amber clashed with dark, golden brown, neither of them prepared to look away as the others in the room carried on oblivious to the tension building between the two of them. His mouth was dry, and his head was most definitely lighter than it had been moments earlier, but he’d be damned if he let Anders win.

A victorious shriek broke their concentration, and they both looked as Isabela threw her cards down in triumph, making rude noises in Fenris’ direction who was admittedly taking his defeat quite well. He bowed out graciously, his paired princes defeated by Isabela’s Templar king, the highest card in the deck. There was a clunk as the first of his gauntlets joined the rest of the clothing in the middle of the table.

They succumbed to laughter and chatter for a few minutes as Varric collected up the cards and began to sort them for a new round. Taking advantage of the distraction, Garrett cast a quick glance at Anders and scowled when he saw him murmuring to Bethany with a small smile on his face. She was staring dreamily at him, and even as he watched she reached forward and batted him on the shoulder as if she was trying to scold and flirt at the same time.

Sweet flaming prophet, Bethany had never annoyed him before tonight- now he was overcome with the urge to drag her back to Gamlen’s and lock her indoors for a good half a century. At the very least, until she was older and much more sensible and not so inclined to attempt to flirt with runaway mages who were far too charming to be considered safe for her.

It was for her own good. She’d thank him some day… maybe.

“Garrett, darling,” Isabela murmured under her breath as Varric flicked out new piles of cards, “you’re ogling. It’s hardly polite.”

“I’m _not_ ogling, Isabela,” he corrected, turning to glare at her. “I am _scowling_. There’s a difference.”

She shrugged lazily, a delighted smile on her face. “Mm, whatever you want to call it, it means the same thing. You’re grumpy that you can’t get your hands on that juicy piece of mage while your sister is pawing at him.”

He blinked. “ _What?_ ” he hissed, lowering his voice when Fenris glanced over at them. “We’ve been over this, Bela. I’m worried that Bethany is going to do something stupid, that’s all.”

“Sweet thing, the only thing you’re worried about is whether she’s going to get a taste before you do,” she said, a sarcastically sympathetic tone to her voice. “And you-”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Isabela, you need to get this fixation out of your head. I’m not ogling Anders. I’m not wanting a taste of Anders. I just want to keep him away from my sister.”

She reached over and stole his drink from him, finishing it off and dumping the empty tankard next to hers. “Easy solution to that,” she said conspiratorially, beckoning for him to come closer. She made a great show of looking around first to make sure they weren’t overheard, before leaning in to whisper “You can keep Anders away from your sister easily.”

He scowled. “So you said. Care to say how?”

She grinned lecherously. “Seduce him. If he’s interested in you instead of Bethany, you have nothing to worry about.”

He stared at her for a few long seconds before he burst out laughing. “Oh, Bela, you do make me laugh sometimes. Do you realise how ridiculous that sounds? Me, seducing Anders?”

The smile lurking on her face told him that she found it anything but ridiculous. “Oh, I don’t know, it has some merit. Think about it, sweet thing- if he’s distracted, if you can keep his attention, you won’t have a heart attack every time he and Bethany are in the same room together. Plus, I can _guarantee_ that you won’t be disappointed with the sex. Speaking from experience and what not.”

His pulse immediately surged as the suggestion of _Anders_ and _sex_ mingled in his head, something that should have horrified him but instead his mind went wandering towards things that were not at all horrifying but instead were much more intriguing than they had a right to be. Things that involved a certain charming mage and sweat and groans and darkened rooms and-

“Perhaps you’re very conveniently forgetting the part where I’m only attracted to women?” The hand sorting his cards into a usable set was shaking uncontrollably. “So, trying to appeal to the part of me that is attracted to men is somewhat redundant.”

She pulled her chair much closer to his, scraping across the floor noisily until several of the others looked up at them. “You two aren’t colluding are you?” Aveline said with a frown. “It’s not like you to involve someone in your elaborate attempts to cheat, Isabela.”

“Why Aveline,” she said, feigning outrage, “I cannot believe you would accuse someone as innocent as I of cheating! But, you need not concern yourself- Garrett and I are simply talking about sex. Aren’t we, darling?”

The nickname grated on him anew, but he gritted his teeth. “Apparently,” he said drily.

The others eyed them suspiciously before they went back to sorting their cards in preparation for the next round. Garrett put his hand down, happy with his for once, and fixed Isabela with a glare. “I’ll thank you not to announce to the whole table that we’re talking about sex. One, it was practically a lie, because all you did was say the word sex, and two… there is no two, I just don’t want the others thinking I’m some kind of pervert for talking about sex with you of all people.”

She chuckled as she played with the cards in her hand. “Of course, because nobody is going to think you’re a letch after that conversation with Anders downstairs. You know the one- where you were practically daring each other to a shag fest?”

He bit the inside of his cheek to stop from yelling. “We were not… _ah_ , what’s the point with you? You clearly don’t care about the truth. I have no interest in seducing Anders- I’m not interested in sleeping with men. It hardly sounds worth it.”

“Worth it?” Her eyes were sparkling merrily. “Darling, are you even aware of the mechanics of the act you dismiss as ‘not worth it’?”

He rolled his eyes and reached for his drink, helpfully replaced by Nora bearing a fresh tray of tankards. “Given that I’m not interested in men, why would I need to be?”

Her eyes turned mockingly serious. “Well, Garrett,” she said, laying her hand affectionately over his. “Perhaps it’s time we sat down and had a little talk. You see, when a daddy and a daddy love each other very much, sometimes one of them likes to have the other one ram his cock deep inside his-”

Garrett choked on his drink, spluttering inanely as her words burned a vivid image into his brain. “Maker, Isabela, _shut up!_ ”

“Aw, what’s wrong Garrett? Getting a little hot and bothered at the thought of Anders pinning you to the bed and fucking you senseless?”

His blood surged, and even though he was sitting he grabbed hold of the table so as not to topple onto the floor. “Isabela!” he hissed.

“Alright!” Varric slapped his hands on the table, interrupting whatever Isabela might have said in response. “Let’s up the stakes a little. New round, new rules- when you lose your hand, your opponent gets to choose which item of clothing you forfeit.”

From there out, the rest of the evening became intolerable. Isabela sat back with a smirk and, to all intents and purposes, threw all of her attention into winning the game, with nary of mention of her ludicrous suggestion that he seduce Anders. And if she happened to exclaim loudly just how _hard_ she found the game, and just how _large_ the stakes were, Garrett simply gritted his teeth and did his best to ignore her.

The rounds progressed with what would have been hilarious results had he not been so frustrated by Isabela’s insinuations. Varric made Aveline sacrifice a single boot; Fenris asked for Varric’s vest; Fenris had to struggle with the indignity of removing his underpants while still fully clothed when Isabela insisted upon it. His awkward, shuffling dance had the whole table in stitches, and Garrett allowed himself to think that maybe he was safe, and that the damned woman’s lecherous attention had drifted on to other targets.

His hope was misplaced. Isabela won again immediately, smirking delightedly as Anders raised an eyebrow at her. “I’m beginning to see a pattern here,” he said dryly. “Out with it then, wench. Am I to lose my smalls ungraciously as well?”

Isabela heaved a great sigh and made a great show of thinking hard about her answer before smiling sinisterly. “Mm, I think not Sparkles,” she said, her grin widening in a way that should have been all the warning Garrett needed. He tensed, waiting for her to say something outrageous, something that was bound to embarrass him and cause some kind of scene. What she finally asked for took him by surprise, to say the least.

“Your hair tie.”

From the look on Anders’ face, Garrett wasn’t the only one to find the request odd. The mage recovered himself well, and reached for his hair with a chuckle. “Is this some new fetish that I’m yet to hear about, Bela? You didn’t seem the type to obsess over hair all those years ago.”

He threw the tie onto the growing pile of clothing in the centre of the table and shook his head, letting his hair shake loose of the crimp the string had made. And Isabela’s intention in asking for so simple an item suddenly became clear.

Garrett was vaguely aware in the back of his head that he was staring, but… _sweet fucking prophet_ , did he even care at that moment? The candlelight caught on the tangled strands that hung down around Anders’ face, turning blond to a burnished red gold that seemed more glorious than any treasures the Deep Roads might hold. It was a messy and snarled affair, and his fingers itched to lean across the table and brush the locks reverentially away from his eyes, holding his gaze as he ran his fingers slowly through the tangles, combing the mess out until it hung smooth against his cheek. And those amber eyes would watch him as he did it, lips parted just slightly and the tiniest hint of a grin turning up the corner.

And then it wouldn’t be so hard to lean across the space between them, and he could run his mouth over that fall of gold and down to-

There was a metallic whine, followed by a loud crack and a sharp stab of pain into the palm of his hand. “Ah, _fuck!_ ” He looked down to see the handle of his tankard warped beyond imagining, and his hand was impaled with a pewter shard from where it had succumbed to pressure and splintered. All lascivious thoughts fled his head- for which he was profoundly grateful- and he hid his moment of foolish arousal behind the rather immense flood of pain.

“By the Stone, Hawke, how did you manage that?” Varric was leaning across the table to look at the injury, copious amounts of blood splattering the table. Merrill and Bethany were making appropriate noises of distress and sympathy, and Isabela was looking at him far too knowingly for his tastes.

“It’s fine,” he said from between gritted teeth. He reached up with his good hand to try and yank out the shard, when long, tapered fingers appeared over his and stopped him in his tracks. His breath caught at that touch. His pulse leapt about erratically as he followed the fingers up to a wrist, then up an arm that was dusted with pale blonde hair, to a shoulder that was still mercifully clothed, to an achingly attractive face that was abruptly too close for comfort.

“Allow me,” Anders murmured, his eyes narrowed with concern.

The pain went somewhere very distant as Anders picked his hand up in his and gently turned the wound back towards him. A shard of metal through his palm? Hardly worth noticing. Anders’ fingers tracing slowly over the fragile skin of his wrist before dipping down to the gash? Torturous beyond imagining.

“So, how exactly did you manage this?” Anders asked quietly while the others drifted back to their conversations. Bethany was scowling at them from across the table, but she looked away when Aveline asked her a question.

Garrett swallowed uncomfortably as Anders picked out the little pieces of shrapnel in his hand with nimble movements. “I, uh… I think I was just holding it too tightly.”

He saw the incredulity that flickered over the mage’s features as the familiar tingle of magic spilled into his palm. The blue light danced from Anders’ fingers like some kind of wisp, and Garrett tried exceedingly hard not to imagine that Anders was taking the opportunity to caress his fingertips over his upturned hand.

 _It’s a healing, nothing more. It’s not a caress, he is not fondling my hand_.

“You turned a pewter mug into little splinters, and you only _think_ you may have been holding it too tightly?” The words were said with only the slightest hint of sarcasm, and more than a little bit of amusement.

Garrett stiffened, his face flushing with embarrassment. “Alright then, fine! I was holding the damned thing too tightly. Happy now?” He caught himself staring at the way those long, tapered fingers just seemed to dance incessantly over his palm. There was a little tuft of blond hair above each of his knuckles, just a hint really, and his fingers were so much longer and more square than he was used to. Women had such dainty hands, feminine curves evident even in the softness of their hands. Anders, by comparison, had… intriguing hands. Precise hands, hands that would know exactly where to press and how firmly and when to grasp, and- “What’s it to you?” he choked, trying to force a halt to his absurd train of thought.

Maker’s Breath, was there something in the drink tonight?

There was a smile tugging at Anders’ mouth, as if he was fighting the urge to break into a colossal grin. “Nothing much, really,” he murmured, looking up from his work and through those golden knots with a sly smile blooming on his face. That look made Garrett’s heart stammer wildly. “I suppose I’m just curious about how… _firm_ your grip really is. More than a little intrigued, really.”

He felt heat surging through him at the implicit meaning of his words, the unspoken promise that he was extremely interested in learning exactly how his hands would feel if he… His brain stuttered to a halt at that point, a natural stop when he had nothing further to base his increasingly elaborate fantasies on, fantasies that he had no business in concocting, and the more he thought about it the more his curiosity grew and the more his imagination began to fill in the blanks-

He snatched his hand away, breaking his gaze at the same moment as he tried to ignore just how furiously his blood was pumping. His skin felt too tight, and his clothing suddenly seemed far too soft and teasing as it brushed against him, and he was so fucking hard that all he wanted to do was rip open his pants just to get some relief from the agonising confines of his suddenly too tight pants. Sweet fucking prophet, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so turned on, and all it had taken was a few lewd suggestions, some lingering touches and a handful of smouldering glares. He wanted to reach over and push Anders’ hair to the side and crush his lips with his own, kissing that smug grin away from his face, nipping and biting and learning his taste…

And that was a vastly uncomfortable revelation for him, given that he was definitely not attracted to men. Not at all. Especially not golden haired, fiery eyed, far-too-smug-for-his-own-good mages who seemed to be in possession of magical fingers.

Anders was still kneeling beside his chair, an eyebrow raised inquisitively and a smile still lingering on his lips- as if he knew exactly what was going through Garrett’s head at that exact moment.

Garrett surged to his feet with what felt like panic in his blood. “Bethany, we’re going home.”


	3. A Seduction

“What?” she cried in dismay, at the same time that everyone else at the table groaned. He distinctly heard Isabela mutter “Just when it was getting interesting too.”

Anders stood slowly too, a questioning look in his eyes that seemed far too knowing for Garrett’s comfort. He turned his body away from him quite deliberately as he said “Come on Bethany, we’re going. Mother will kill me if I let you get drunk. Get your things.”

“Anything already on the table is forfeit,” Varric said quickly, sweeping the small amount of coins within reach out of sight. Bethany made a sound of distress; “But that was my favourite scarf!”

“House Rules!” Isabela said quickly, following Varric’s gesture and reaching across the table for Bethany’s things. “You can try and win it back off me next time. Besides, I quite like it. It brings out a glow in me.” To illustrate her point, she snagged the scrap of fabric and tucked it into the front of her ample bosom, the end only just visible above the hem of her corset. “See? It looks divine.”

For once, Garrett couldn’t agree with her. In fact, he barely noticed the damn thing; he was trying far too hard to not look at Anders, who was stretching in a way that just had to be deliberate, his arms outstretched above his head and an almost beatific smile on his face. There was something about him in that moment that reminded him of a cat, and he so desperately wanted to pet him in all the wrong ways…

He reached over and ripped the scarf from Isabela’s corset, ignoring her protests, before storming around the table and grabbing Bethany by the arm. “Goodnight,” he growled, not daring to look back into the room lest his frayed control be tested further.

Maker’s Breath, why was his control so frayed in the first place? And by Anders, of all people? Why not Isabela and her deliciously ample bosom?

“Oh _Maker_ ,” Bethany moaned as he pulled her through the taproom. “Garrett, that was _so_ embarrassing! Why did you have to do that?”

“ _I_ was embarrassing?” he snapped. “You were the one throwing yourself at Anders!”

“I was not throwing myself at him!”

“You were _pawing_ at him!” Garrett growled, dragging her through the front door and out into the street. The music and laughter and general noisiness of the Hanged Man dimmed instantly once the door swung shut behind them. “Sweet fucking Maker, Beth, at least have a little _dignity_.”

“Oh, because you panting at him over the table like a Mabari bitch in heat was so utterly _dignified_ ,” she snapped, fighting his hold on her arm and making her own growl of frustration when he refused to loosen his grip. “The way you practically dared him to shag you was completely _dignified_.”

He scoffed nastily. “Everyone knows I’m not attracted to men, so nobody else is thinking such paranoid thoughts except you! You’re just angry that you couldn’t keep his attention all night on you, and you’re blaming it on me.”

He could practically feel the waves of hatred bearing down on him. “Maybe I _would_ have kept his attention all night if you hadn’t been undressing him with your eyes.”

The night air was cool, an almost painful counterpart to the flush of heat that was still in his blood. At Bethany’s words, he immediately pictured Anders standing at the table, his hair illuminated by candlelight as he let the jacket slide slowly down his shoulders. His blood surged anew. “Oh, please, Beth, you were painfully obvious with your stupid little attempts at flirting. He probably just isn’t interested in you and didn’t want to embarrass you in front of everyone.”

“I was not painfully obvious!”

They were approaching the stairs that led up to the wretched hovel they shared with Uncle Gamlen, and his temper finally snapped. “You were no better than that whore down at the bar!” he snarled… and immediately regretted his stupidity. At her gasp, he said “Ah, shit, Bethie, I didn’t mean that.”

Bethany let out a wounded sob and wrenched her arm free from his grasp. He let her go, feeling like the worst kind of wretch. “I should be allowed to form meaningful relationships with other adults without you trying to sabotage everything!” she said, her words wobbling dangerously. “I’m not a child, Garrett!” On those words she lost the fight against her tears and fled up the stairs to the house.

***

The next morning dawned bright and awkward- Bethany was refusing to speak to him. Which, really, was understandable; he’d hurt her feelings. He’d tried to apologise three times now, so if she chose to be petulant and childish it was her own fault. Really, he’d done her a favour dragging her away before things had grown too debauched.

If he was going to let anyone near Bethany, it wasn’t going to be a rakish, possessed ex-Warden apostate living in a sewer. On the one hand, he didn’t trust Anders not to break her heart, and on the other hand, he didn’t trust Anders not to just outright get her killed. The idiot and his revolutionary mutterings were exactly the kind of thing Bethany did not need; she needed someone sensible and caring and just because they were both mages didn’t mean they had some kind of connection that made them more likely to be attracted to each other, and anyway, they-

Garrett broke his thoughts off, cursing under his breath as he worked his way through the crowded bazaar to the entrance to Darktown. He wasn’t going to dwell on all the ridiculous things that had happened the night before. He was not in any way, shape or form attracted to Anders. Last night had just been… a mistake.

A mistake fuelled by alcohol and a friend with a penchant for mischief and just a few moments of poor judgement on his part. Obsessing over Anders hair? Here in the light of day, sober, he couldn’t think of anything more ridiculous. Why would he be interested in the scruffy, uncombed hair of a man, when he preferred the silken locks of the numerous women he invited to his bed? He certainly wasn’t going to waste his time thinking about that frozen moment when Anders glanced up at him from between strands of molten gold, kneeling before him with that cocky half smile dancing over his lips and-

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” His hands dug into his hair, ignoring the alarmed looks of some of the passers-by. He’d had to cut himself off twice in as many minutes, all over that _fucking_ mage.

Which, incidentally, was supposed to be his destination now; this nonsense from the night before just reiterated the need to end this before it surged out of control. Since Bethany was clearly incapable of reason, and he’d had no luck threatening Anders to stay away, he was going to have to try and be rational with Anders.

Hopefully the mage was capable of such a notion. It was an optimistic hope- rationality had seemed vastly beyond him last night. And if rationality didn’t work, he was running desperately low of ideas.

Isabela’s suggestion inevitably flitted through his thoughts. _There’s always seduction…_

There was an immediate flurry of fantasies behind his eyes, in all their illicit, tactile glory- candlelight that danced over hair and sweat dampened skin, the sharp and angular shape of male bodies without the counterpoint of female curves, the smell of sex and sweat and oil, the imagined grunts and sighs and moans….

He had to stop and press a hand into the wall beside him, just to keep his balance. “Okay,” he muttered under his breath. “Maybe… maybe the world has just gone completely mad and I do happen to…” He struggled in vain, unable to voice it aloud. He slumped against the wall and shoved his hands in his pockets- unfortunately it brought them far too close to his once again hard cock. That would be awkward if anyone was paying too much attention.

He debated Isabela’s words anew, trying to approach them rationally. There was some merit to what she was suggesting, distracting Anders with a different potential lover. His brain froze, and he gritted his teeth and muttered “ _Potential_ ,” just to calm the thunderous pounding in his chest.

He pushed off the wall- and paused, his mind replaying his thoughts. Huh- _potential_ lover. Not actual lover. He could lead Anders on, pretend to seduce him until he was suitably uninterested in Bethany, and then he could end this charade. It was perfect- Bethany wouldn’t get her heart broken, Anders would have an amusement, and once he ended it he wouldn’t have to face questions from himself as to why he was dreaming about being sucked off by golden haired mages with smart ass mouths.

It was the perfect plan- everybody won. Feeling more relaxed than he had in days, Garrett headed into Darktown.   
***

The clinic was not so busy that he couldn’t move once he stepped inside, but it certainly wasn’t a quiet day by any stretch of the imagination. He frowned as he took in the screaming children, the wounded, the sick… the heavily pregnant in one instance. This was hardly the ideal environment for an attempted seduction; he couldn’t even see Anders in the mess and the noise of the room.

He wove through the chaos, stepping over a child who was drawing some elaborate squiggle in the dirt, and finally spotted Anders towards the back, bent low over a bloodied leg that he was closing with a needle and deft, quick fingers. For a moment he found himself mesmerised as he stared, those precise hands coated with blood just as they had been the night before when they’d touched him with such sensual teasing…

Garrett shook his head. Then frowned at himself. If he was going to try to seduce the man, he had to stop cutting himself off every time he thought about something even remotely sexy. Anders would notice it immediately if he was faking his attentions.

As he came closer, Anders finally noticed his approach; he nodded briefly, his attention all but taken up by the wound in front of him. Garrett waited patiently to the side, letting the minutes tick by and his nerves begin to build. He tried to seem relaxed, but even he could tell he was quite obviously tense by the time Anders finally cut the end the thread and tied it off, adding a surge of mana to the injury for good measure.

His smile was tired but genuine when he finally stood and faced him, arms full of the bloodied scraps of the healing. His hair was a little lopsided, as if he hadn’t bothered to tie it off properly this morning, and he had an air of distraction to him. It was interesting- it was like he was an entirely different person to the risqué, flirtatious man who’d stared at him from across the table last night.

“Garrett,” he said warmly. His eyes twinkled with merriment. “I would offer to shake your hand, but I don’t think you’d want to after the things I’ve had to touch this morning.”

No better time than the present. “Oh, you never know,” he said airily. “I might want to touch you after all.”

Anders looked at him sharply, the mischief diminishing immediately. “Would you really,” he said flatly, voicing it more as a statement than a question. “Well, then, what brings you to my disgusting little corner of Darktown on this bright and cheerful day?”

Why did it suddenly feel as if he were on the back foot with just one sentence?

“I just… came to see you,” he said awkwardly. How did one go about seducing another man? If it were a female he was chasing, he’d just make all the appropriate comments about her hair being like silk and her eyes being like windows to the soul, and all the other romantic nonsense that seemed to work so well. He had a feeling Anders wouldn’t find it all that appealing. “Is that such a bad thing?”

Anders stared at him for a moment, before chuckling and pushing past him to take the armful of bloodied bandages to the bin. Garrett, at somewhat of a loss as to what to do, followed him; he pulled up the stool from the bench and watched as Anders shucked his jacket and rolled up his sleeves before dunking his forearms in a basin of water. The motion didn’t have the same implicit seductiveness as the night before, when the jacket had been drawn slowly down his arms while the candlelight turned his hair to burnished gold, but there was certainly something about it that made Garrett grit his teeth and look away. Neither of them spoke while Anders washed the blood and gore from his hands, and Garrett tried to occupy himself with anything that was not Anders’ hands.

“So, you just came to see me,” Anders said finally, drying off on a ragged looking towel. His smile was perhaps a little brittle as he turned back to him. “No hidden agendas, nothing secretive, just here to catch up with little old me? Forgive me, Garrett, but I have a hard time believing that.”

Garrett felt a niggle of panic at the thought of failing so early into his plan- because it was obvious even to him that Anders was suspicious of his intentions. “And why is that?” he asked carefully, reaching over and hesitantly laying his hand over Anders’ where it rested on the bench.

Anders glanced down at their hands, eyes lingering for a moment before he looked back up again. “Garrett,” he said firmly, “what are you doing?”

Not really the response he’d been looking for. “I’m… offering you comfort?” He could have kicked himself. Worst pick up line in history. He really needed a book for this.

The suspicious look in Anders’ eyes didn’t dim. “I see,” he said slowly. “Offering me comfort from what, exactly?”

Maker take it all, was this even the same man from last night? If he’d shown even the slightest indication of interest to that Anders, it would only have ended in hot, fast, dirty sex in a spare room at the Hanged Man. Why was he now looking at him like he was addled? “You… seem stressed. And I thought that… you know, I hadn’t exactly been a very supportive friend lately and I wanted to… fix that.”

The mage sighed and blew his fringe out of his eyes, before carefully extracting his hand out from under Garrett’s and crossing his arms. “Hawke,” he began, and Garrett fought the urge to wince. He’d gone from the intimacy of first names to the cool detachment of his surname all in the space of one conversation. “I have a room full of patients that need my attention, I’m still slightly hung-over, and I don’t really have the tolerance to try and work out your cryptic little stutters. So, I’ll ask you again- why are you here? And don’t lie to me, because you’re quite clearly here for a reason.”

Sweet flaming prophet, this was so much harder than he thought it was going to be. “I’m here for you, Anders,” he said, trying to soften his expression and hoping that it didn’t come off too much like a leer. He’d never had to make doe eyes at another man before. “You’ve just been so stressed lately, and I thought you might need someone to talk to. Someone to support you.”

Anders sighed and looked away. “Garrett…” It wasn’t exactly a chastisement, but it wasn’t exactly a good sound either.


	4. A Complication

“Please,” he said quickly, reaching forward and putting his hand on the mage’s shoulder. Anders glanced down at it before looking back up to his face. “Can we just… talk? Somewhere privately? I won’t… I won’t take up much of your time.”

 _Ever the silver tongued rake, Garrett. Congratulations on keeping this embarrassing spectacle to a bare minimum, at the very least._

Anders stared at him for a moment, before jerking his head to the side, indicating a door at the far end of the clinic.

He followed Anders into the back room, his bedroom by the looks of things, fighting a sudden batch of nerves. _Don’t be ridiculous, you just need to talk to him. Lay the foundations for the seduction. He clearly doesn’t believe you at the moment, so you need to-_

The sound of the door clicking shut sounded remarkably ominous, and he spun about to find Anders right behind him. He opened his mouth to make some flippant remark, some joke to lighten the mood, but at the look in Anders’ eyes, the words died on his tongue. His eyes were like fire, burning through his cocky, arrogant façade and leaving him feeling strangely exposed. “Anders-” he began.

He didn’t get any further. Anders put a hand to his shoulder and pushed him slowly back against the wall, falling him inch for inch.

“Whatever am I to do with you, Garrett Hawke?” The words were said pleasantly enough, but there was an undertone of something dark and sexual and not particularly gentle. When Garrett opened his mouth to speak again, he found his lips covered by a finger, shushing him. “Ah ah, not yet. I’m not done contemplating yet.” Anders stepped in closer still, and suddenly Garrett realised just how easily he’d fallen into the trap. The spark of dark mischief in Anders’ eyes should have been a warning; instead he’d been too focussed on making sure he was the one doing the seducing.

Anders’ finger began to slowly trace over his lips, and he felt his blood quicken in response to the feathery touch. “Anders…”

The dark fire in his eyes was stunning. “I have a room full of patients out there, who all need my attention,” he murmured, his finger pressing against Garrett’s lip until he was allowed entry. After a moment, Garrett hesitantly sucked on the tip until the mage purred approvingly. “And yet all I can think about it throwing you down on that bed and fucking you until you scream.”

Fuck. Was that panic or arousal that flooded his body with wild, chaotic heat? Did he want to run screaming from the room never to come back to Darktown ever again, or did he want to lunge at Anders, kiss him senseless and beg for him to teach him every dirty little trick he knew about pleasuring another man?

Things were never this complicated when it just sex with a woman.

 _Think of Bethany,_ he told himself firmly. _You’re here to protect her from Anders, and she isn’t going to be happy with you for interfering in the first place. Imagine how pissed she’s going to be if you- oohhh, sweet fucking Maker_. Anders, his finger still just resting ever so gently on the tip of his tongue, slid it slowly into his mouth, his other hand coming up to cradle his jaw as he dragged it out again with just as much agonising deliberateness. He repeated the gesture, a darkly wild spark in his eyes that made Garrett thankful for the wall at his back. At the moment the damned thing was the only thing keeping him on his feet.

His hands clenched and unclenched a half dozen times over at his sides- _what in the void was he supposed to do with them? Should he grab him? Shove him away?_ \- and Anders seemed to revel in his discomfort, if his widening smirk was anything to go by.

“Do you have any idea how turned on I get, watching you fight what your body wants?” His voice was barely above a whisper, but there was no doubt that it was a predatory sound. It was like the very faint growl a Mabari made, ears twitching in warning, when a stranger stepped too close. “Watching you stare at me, knowing your thoughts are running away with you to places far beyond your most explicit fantasies… it drives me insane. And knowing that you’re fighting it with every fibre of your being just makes me want to break you.”

The motion, the slick slide in and out, which he’d had performed on him any countless number of times before by women looking to gain his attention quickly, was so extraordinarily different when he was the one providing the spectacle. The explicit implication of the gesture, the mimicry of a much more erotic action, was provocative enough normally, watching his finger disappear in and out from between the lips of a woman, imagining fucking her face and seeing the same mix of coyness and mischief and desire in her eyes that he could see now while she enjoyed only his finger.

Now, there was a whole new layer of arousal, something dark and vaguely terrifying in seeing the look in Anders’ eyes and knowing that he was no longer the top of the food chain. Knowing that Anders looked at him and saw the same thing he did when he looked at those women. As the mage’s finger slid in and out of his mouth, his tongue curling around it almost instinctively with every gentle thrust, he felt an answering pull deep in his stomach, hot and tight and coiling within him.

If this was supposed to be a pretend seduction, wasn’t he supposed to protest more? Maybe act a little resistant to the idea?

He closed his mouth enough that his teeth scraped against Anders’ finger on the next pull; Anders huffed out a laugh and his other hand tightened his grip on Garrett’s jaw.

“What, you think you’ll show a little backbone now?” The mage finally slid his hand free from Garrett’s mouth, stopping to trace the outline of his lips. “Or are you still confused about what you want, and think you’ll try to tease a little?”

With his mouth relatively unoccupied, Garrett managed to force out “I’m not here for sex, Anders. Get your head out of the gutter. Not everybody is out to find a way into your bedroom.”

His laugh was a little nasty, but it sent shivers down his spine all this same. “And yet… here you are.”

Before Garrett could scrounge together an adequately scathing response, Anders’s grip on his cheek became like iron; he saw the flash of white hot desire in his eyes, and then he was pressed firmly back against the wall, the strength of the other man both thrilling and alarming as Anders tilted his chin and kissed him.

Kissing a man was nothing at all like kissing a woman, and yet… there was something about it that seemed remarkably natural. And so damned thrilling

Anders tasted like… honey, surprisingly; black tea and honey. And then there was that familiar scent, elfroot and leather and the clean smell of male that was suddenly so fucking arousing that he thought he might explode. Anders ran his hand down over his hip, fingers digging into his skin even through his clothes as he held him in place; he kissed him in a slow, drugging fashion, nipping and sucking and coaxing at his mouth until he succumbed and opened to him. He felt the mage chuckle, felt him whisper “Good boy,” against his mouth before he was back, plundering his mouth with languorous thrusts of his tongue that had him scrabbling at the wall for something to hold onto that was not _Anders_.

He had no control whatsoever, and it was as maddening as it was arousing. Every time he tried to push back and gain the upper hand- be it with a not so subtle nip against Anders’ upper lip, or his hand fisting in his glorious, golden hair,- Anders fought back with something that had him gasping and trying not to groan in delight. He wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t give the bastard the satisfaction.

But then Anders slid his thigh between his legs, and pressed quite firmly against his cock, and sweet fucking Maker he was moaning against him and his hands came up to grab desperately at him, pull him closer, and his pride had flown straight out the window and he didn’t fucking care and-

Anders stepped away from him abruptly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Garrett nearly lost his balance, so quick was the movement, and for a moment all he could do was stare and try to remember how to use his brain again. Anders appeared not to notice his confusion, reaching up to fix his tousled hair.

“What…?” He felt like he was floundering, utterly flummoxed at the surging, violent heat inside of him, and the need to reach out and haul the smirking mage back up against him. “What are you doing?”

Anders was adjusting his clothing with a casualness that was insulting, as if he were in no way affected by what they’d just done. He glanced up from between lashes that seemed nothing but decadent on a man, and his lips twitched with a smile- I’ve kissed those lips- as he took in Garrett’s bewildered expression and lust glazed stare and heaving chest. “I told you, darling: I have patients that need seeing to. Plus, you told me a moment ago that you weren’t here for sex- a shame, really. I could have had fun with you.”

“I…” What could he possibly say to that? _No, Anders, I take it back, I’ve never wanted a man before, but please fuck me senseless with a roomful of people just through the door?_ Was that even what he wanted? No, of course not, this was all a ploy to lure Anders away from Bethany. He was attracted to women- to softness and sweetness and curves and the power he felt in having them beneath him, begging and mewling while he fucked them. He didn’t want… he couldn’t…

Fuck it; he had no idea what he wanted right now.

“Come back tonight.”

It was worded not as a request, as one lover might try to lure another with a heartfelt question expressing desire, but as a statement of fact. Anders had said it, and so it would be true. Anders had told him to come back tonight, so he would… Garrett blinked. “Um, may I ask why? Since I’m not in the business of jumping every time you snap your fingers.”

Anders laughed softly. “Garrett, you have two choices- either you come here, and we’ll have this precious talk that you’re so determined that we have, or I come to your house and I bend you over the table in front of your family and fu-”

“Alright!” Sweet Maker, just the mere suggestion was enough to send his blood pressure through the roof. “Fuck, Anders, alright. I’ll come here. Just… keep it quiet, alright?”

Pausing in the doorway, Anders glanced over his shoulder with a look that made his knees threaten to give out. “There’ll be nothing quiet about what goes on tonight, Garrett.”

***

Garrett had no idea how to distract himself; the evening was hours away and he found far too often that if he didn’t amuse himself with something else, then his mind inevitably wandered and he found himself reliving that glorious kiss, both horrified and aroused by it. And then of course with his blood heating at the memory of honey and leather and _maleness_ , his thoughts would move on to the implicit sexual threat in Anders’ words- and it was nothing but a threat, a provocative taunt to rile him up and force him to respond. The man was a menace of the highest order. And damn him for leaving him in this state, with nothing more than a pat on the cheek as if he were a pet! Right now he didn’t know whether he wanted to deck him or lunge for him. All he knew was that he wanted to put that smarmy mage in his place for presuming that Garrett Hawke was a pushover.

He sneered to himself as he ran the whetstone down the edge of the dagger he was cleaning. As if he’d ever let himself be taken in by such an obvious, over the top act. As if he would ever debase himself enough to let another man have his way with him- the whetstone froze as an image flashed through his head of Anders, hair loose and tousled and all but molten in the low light of the candles, above him and around him, body glistening with sweat and his brow furrowed with fierce concentration as he bit into his lip and growled and thrust-

The dagger went clattering onto the bench top from suddenly trembling fingers. He tried to pick it up, failed, and clenched his fists to stop them from shaking before trying again. Behind him, he heard Bethany make a noise of irritation. “What is _wrong_ with you today?” she snapped.

He looked over his shoulder to the scrappy table, where she was sitting with a book in her hands and a frown on her face as she glared at him. “You’re talking to me again, I see,” he said, as a way of avoiding the question.

She snorted unkindly. “It’s a bit hard to ignore you when you’re sitting there muttering to yourself and turning bright red. You look like you want to punch something.”

 _I’d prefer to punch some_ one _, but…_ “I’m just not having the best day,” he said evasively, turning back to his work.

“Well, it could be worse: at least no one called you a whore last night.”

He put the dagger down again and spun in his chair to face her. “I said I was sorry, Beth. I was drunk and I was angry and I was really, really dumb to say that.” When she didn’t answer, just stared daggers at him, he sighed. “Look, is there any way I could make it up to you?”

“For starters you could treat me like an adult instead of a five year old,” she said snippily. When he huffed a frustrated sigh she rolled her eyes and said “But since that’s clearly too hard for you, you could at least come to an evening Chant with me. The services are usually quite nice, and not as crowded as during the day.”

 _Anders would never find me if I went and hid in the Chantry._ Tempting. “Beth, I dunno… I have a feeling that if I went into a Chantry, the roof would catch fire. Heathen soul like mine in the House of the Maker and everything.”

She rolled her eyes and picked up her book again. “Well, then, you’re not forgiven. I’m still mad at you.”

“Oh come on, Bethikins. You shouldn’t even be going to the Chantry either- there’s way too many Templars at those services.”

She deliberately turned the page as if ignoring his point, before saying “Well, maybe I’ll meet a nice Templar boy and bring him home for dinner. Or sex, since I’m a whore, apparently.”

“That’s not fair, Beth! I said I was sorry!”

“And when you mean it I’ll accept it!” she snapped. “What’s so important that you can’t take an hour out of your evening to come to a service with me?”

 _Messy golden hair that shone like bronze in the low light. Eyes like whiskey that danced with mischief and burned with passion. The smell of elfroot and the taste of honey and the firm, confident hands of someone who knew exactly what they were doing. The implicit challenge in knowing that for once he might have found- in Anders, of all people!- someone that he couldn’t conquer._

 _It’s for Bethany. That’s all it is._

“I have an appointment I have to keep.”


	5. An Entanglement

By the time he found himself standing outside the clinic well after sunset, he could honestly say that he had no idea what he had done for the past few hours. The time was simply a blur in his head as the yawning realisation of what it was he was about to do grew more and more immense in his thoughts.

 _It’s easy_ , he said firmly to himself as he stared at the door. _He’s already proved that he’s amiable to the idea of… certain intimacies, so it won’t be too hard to convince him that you’re genuine._ He tried to ignore the way his cock stiffened slightly at the vague suggestion of ‘ _certain intimacies_ ’, and instead rapped quickly on the door before he lost his nerve.

After a moment he heard the light tread of feet and the door swung open. His breath caught in his chest as the dim lights in the room behind caught in Anders’ hair, which was hanging loose around his face. It was damp, as if he’d recently washed it, and just like the night before his fingers itched to fix it, to brush it away and watch the mage’s expression change as he leant in closer-

“Garrett,” Anders said with a slow smile that immediately threw his good intentions out the window. Fuck, why did this have to be so confusing? “Won’t you come in?”

Garrett let himself be led forward, somewhat in a daze; what was he doing, letting himself be alone with him? Anders gestured for him to take a seat on an empty cot and he did it without questioning, his blood quickening when he dragged another cot closer and sat across from him. Before Anders could speak, he leapt into the silence first.

“I’m here to talk about Bethany,” he said stiffly. Maybe he wouldn’t have to resort to seduction if he just stuck to the task at hand. “You’ve been paying too much attention to her- and I don’t like it. She’s an innocent girl and she doesn’t understand men like you.”

“Men like me?” Anders said, a smile creeping over his face.

“Yes, men like you,” Garrett snapped, feeling his face redden. “You’ve been showing far too much interest in her.”

“I am interested in Bethany because she is a free mage,” Anders said with extreme enunciation on every second syllable, as if he thought he was addressing an idiot. “A mage who has never known the corruption within a Circle Tower, and yet is a sweet and good natured human being and a devout Andrastian to boot. She is everything that the Chantry claim is impossible, and that makes her very important to my cause.”

Garrett blinked in confusion. “You… you like her because she’s a mage? Not because you wanted to…?”

Something sharpened in Anders’ gaze. “Not because I wanted to ‘ _what_ ’, Garrett? I don’t think there’s any point in being shy now, is there?”

How could such innocuous words feel so… dangerous? “So… you were never attracted to her?”

Anders’ smile was softer than he would have expected, given how positively predatory he’d acted earlier. “I was never attracted to her.”

His mouth went dry. “Well, I’m glad we settled that then,” he said, hoping he was just imagining how hoarse his voice was. He put his hands on his knees as he went to stand.

Hands covered his instantly, pressing down on his thighs and forcing him to remain seated. His gaze snapped upwards, searching for Anders’, and they collided in a maelstrom of heat and lust and naked desire that made him suck in a desperate gulp of air. _Maker_ , this was not what he had planned.

“I didn’t say you could go,” Anders murmured softly, almost gently as his hand came up to cradle his face, thumb brushing out over his lips.

 _He doesn’t want Bethany! There’s no need to be here! End this foolishness now!_ “What are you doing?” he choked out. His blood had been replaced by fire, if the heat flooding his body was anything to go by.

Anders took his time in answering, his eyes darting over his face with a slight frown between his eyes as if something were confusing him. “I can’t work you out, Big Bad Garrett Hawke,” he said softly. “This tough, macho persona that you wear, it drives me crazy. All I want to do is to pin you underneath me and hear you wail while I fuck you, to know that I broke the big bad warrior… but then you blush and splutter and gasp so adorably and _fuck_ if I don’t just want to cuddle you instead. What are you doing to me?”

Garrett dug his fingers into his knees to keep himself from grabbing at him, but realised too late that the mage had his hands over his- when Anders glanced down, he knew that he’d felt the tension, and had given himself away.

He inhaled sharply when he noticed that Anders was somehow much closer than he had been a moment ago. His hands were on his, and their knees were brushing against one another, and the smell of him was _everywhere_. “Now, tell me you didn’t really come here for Bethany’s sake,” Anders said, running his hands slowly up his thighs.

Garrett bit back a groan. “Anders, I don’t… men are not my thing. I mean, if I was ever going to, then you’d probably-”

“Tell me,” Anders repeated slowly, his hands sliding across muscles with just enough pressure to be titillating, “that you didn’t really come here for Bethany’s sake.”

He swallowed uncomfortably. “I really only came here for-”

“Liar,” Anders said instantly, chuckling softly. His hands ran a little higher, and Garrett let out a strangled gasp as Anders ran them high enough to have him scrabbling at the threadbare cot beneath him for something to grab hold of that was not Anders.

“I’m not lying,” he protested weakly, glancing frantically from Anders and down to his lap, where the hands were creeping ever higher. “Stop that!”

“If you want me to stop, then stop me,” Anders said smoothly, the massage at once relaxing and arousing and distressing. Garrett fisted the sheets when Anders’ thumbs ran down to his inner thighs and then traced lazily back up again before repeating the motion. “If you only came here for Bethany, then get up and walk away from here. Make me stop touching you. Fight back against the scary mage giving you a throbbing hard on.”

 _Walk away, yes, he should do that- wait, no, but he had to seduce Anders, didn’t he? No! That was the old plan, that was for Bethany’s sake-_

He couldn’t stop from moaning when Anders gave up the pretence of teasing and instead cupped him boldly, stroking his cock through his breeches as if it were the most natural thing in the world. All rational thought went out the window. His other hand was around his neck, tugging him closer, until Anders’ forehead was resting on his, their breaths mingling in the closeness; he could hear himself, panting and groaning, and it sounded far too loud in the empty clinic. And this felt good, so damned fucking good, but he could hear himself gasping, echoing back in the emptiness, and it didn’t seem right, not like this-

He pushed Anders’ hand away but didn’t have the strength to break away entirely. He was still within kissing distance. “Anders, no, I can’t.”

Anders growled but didn’t press himself on him. “Are you frightened, Garrett?”

 _Oh, fuck yes._ “No, I’m fine, I just don’t-”

“Have you honestly never been with a man at all? Not even fooling around?”

He gave him a withering look. “Gee, surprisingly Anders, no. What the void do you think?”

Anders’ hand came up and cradled his cheek, the gesture surprisingly tender, before he leant in and touched his lips to Garrett’s. It was a soft kiss, something that made Garrett feel alarmingly vulnerable as Anders slowly kissed the breath from his body. He didn’t even realise he was grabbing at him, his hands in the front of Anders’ shirt anchoring them together, until they came up for air, both gasping and aroused and the look in Anders’ eyes just then made Garrett just want to melt back onto the bed-

“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Anders murmured. His fingers came up and brushed the ragged edges of Garrett’s fringe away from his eyes. “Let me show you what it’s like to be with a man.”

Garrett felt light headed. “No… I mean, I don’t think… oh, _fuck_ Anders…”

“You don’t need to think,” he whispered against his lips. “Just let me take control.”

Garrett hadn’t been paying enough attention to what Anders had been doing when he fondled him. Before he could protest, Anders was tugging on the already untied laces of his pants- how had he managed that without him noticing?- and his cock was springing free a moment later, hot and hard and with that little pearl of moisture beading on the head already.

Anders looked up at him from between those decadent lashes, eyes dark with wickedness, as he bent down and took him into his mouth.

He let out a strangled moan as his cock was encompassed by the hot, wet heat of Anders’ mouth, fighting the furious need to thrust upwards as Anders took him in deeply. For a moment, giddy euphoria overtook him, and his hands were in his hair, that maddening fall of rusty gold soft between his fingers and he was- “Oh, _fuck_ , Anders, no, _stop_.”

He keened wildly when Anders’ response was to suck down firmly, swallowing around him until he saw stars, and his hands weren’t pushing him away, they were urging him _closer_. When Anders hummed, Garrett choked on a cry and dug his hands into his scalp and it was building, the pressure and the pleasure, and Anders was doing something marvellous with his tongue and then it was too much and-

Garrett cried out hoarsely, fighting not to writhe about as he came, spilling into Anders’ mouth. He thought he heard him chuckle, and he felt him swallow as he slowly let him slide free, a devious smile on his face as he wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. Panting for air, and feeling remarkably vulnerable, Garrett quickly looked away so that he didn’t have to make eye contact with him. Fuck, this had gotten far too complicated far too quickly.

Anders placed his hand gently on his chin and turned him back to face him. “You _are_ scared,” he said, touching his fingertips to Garrett’s lips. “Why did you lie to me?”

“What do you want me to say, Anders?” he snapped, horrified at how his voice shook. “I’ve never even _looked_ at a man before you, and now you’re in my head and you’ve just sucked me off as if it were completely normal for me and I-”

Anders shushed him, placing a finger over his lips to stop the flow of words. He ran his hands up into his hair, bringing him forward until their foreheads were touching. “Trust me, Garrett,” he soothed, his thumbs pressing into the base of his neck and rubbing in lazy circles. “Let me show you pleasure. Let me make you scream and sob and thrash as you come.”

His blood surged at the suggestion. “Anders…”

Anders pressed him down onto the cot bed, nipping softly at his mouth as he did it, his knees going either side of his hips and his hands cradling his face. “Relax,” he murmured to him, the kisses losing their urgency and becoming something entirely more drugging and unhurried and heady; despite himself, he found himself slowly relaxing, the weight of Anders upon him intriguing and more than a little arousing.

Garrett had to hand it to Anders- the mage was a damn good kisser. Kissing had never been a huge draw card for him, and certainly not an arousing action in itself; it was a means to an end, most of the time, in the process of getting a woman into his bed. This was… admittedly this was one of the most erotic encounters he’d ever had even discounting the surprise blow job.

Anders ran his hands slowly down the flat planes of his chest and down to his stomach; Garrett tensed when he felt him reaching for the hem of his shirt and he shushed him, kissing softly at the corner of his mouth while his fingers ran under the edge of the fabric. They both moaned appreciatively when his hands touched skin, Anders laying his palms flat against Garrett’s stomach. His hands slid slowly upwards, fingers lingering on nipples that grew harder as he flicked a nail over them, rolling the tiny bud gently around until Garrett was squirming. “Do you like that?” he asked; Garrett couldn’t bring himself to answer, but he moaned when Anders continued his torturous ministrations. When he pulled at the shirt, tugging it up around his shoulders, he found himself helping to pull it over his head. _Oh Maker, what are you doing Garrett…_

Anders lent down and kissed him slowly, just as languorously as before. “It’s different with another man,” Anders said softly, nuzzling along his jaw and down his neck; when he bit down on his collarbone Garrett groaned and arched into him slightly, feeling a little more comfortable in his own skin. “Because I know exactly what feels good, because I’ve felt it too. I know the best places to bite, the best places to nibble, the best places to suck.” To illustrate his point his mouth settled on the place where jaw and neck met, just below his ear, and sucked down hard, before tonguing the spot until the burn was soothed.

It was intoxicating, this slow burning need trickling through his veins. Anders was guiding him along masterfully- if he’d rushed things, gotten lost in the passion and the fire of the moment, he would most likely have panicked and fought back. But this lazy seduction was so gentle and unhurried and every time he felt his nerves threatening to overtake him Anders seemed to know, and he was there, kissing softly while his hands caressed gently higher without overwhelming him. It wasn’t too long before he found himself kissing him back, found his own hands buried in Anders hair; they were gasping together, breathing one another in, and Garrett felt his head spinning from the overload of sensations.

A niggling thought caught his attention. “What about Justice?” he said, gasping when Anders bent down to run his tongue over his nipple, sucking lightly on the bud.

Anders chuckled and sat up, still straddling his waist; as he tugged his own shirt up and over his head, casting it into the darkness beyond the candlelight, Garrett felt his blood thicken with fierce need. He looked like a pagan god, all smouldering eyes and golden hair lit by candlelight, and a more muscular frame than he would have given him credit for. He swallowed as his eyes traced down his well defined chest, following the dusting of golden hair that trailed towards the waistband of his pants. “What about Justice?” Anders asked, turning the question back at him as he ran his hands slowly over Garrett’s stomach in teasing circles.

“You said…” It was so hard to think when his hands were _doing_ things. “You said that he changed you; you said that you couldn’t do these things, that it wasn’t safe anymore.”

“Ah, my lies unravel so quickly,” Anders said melodramatically, shifting his weight until the press of him made Garrett groan. “Justice is an easy excuse. He is something to hide behind, when I need to protect myself. I cannot allow threats and distractions.”

He felt slighted. “So I’m neither to you?”

Anders laughed again. “You are both, darling Garrett, which makes my obsessive need to ravish you a little unnerving. I place a lot of trust in you, hoping that you will not reveal my secret, and I have no right to indulge myself with you when so much is at stake.”

Garrett groaned as Anders slowly thrust against him, hands clenching into the blankets as he fought not to panic at the gesture; it did feel damned good though, even with layers of clothing between them. “Well then why are you indulging? I can just leave, you know, if that’s easier.”

He barely finished the sentence before Anders was on him, kissing him so ferociously that it stole his breath away, pressing him into the cot bed; the skin to skin contact was electrifying, burning away what little self-control he had as he cried out desperately against his mouth. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so astounded at the feel of bare skin before; it felt like he was sizzling. If sparks started appearing on his body, he would hardly have been surprised.

Anders nipped at his mouth and pulled away marginally. “You don’t understand, Garrett,” he growled, bruising his lips with the force of the next kiss. “For you, sex is about three things- control, power and release. You’re not interested in the journey that you take in order to get pleasure.” He sat back and began to remove Garrett’s boots with a speed that spoke of the urgency he was hiding. They went flying towards the wall as he turned back with dark, wild eyes. “You’re used to being in control in all matters, including sex. So you don’t let yourself go wild, or experiment, or take risks. You don’t interact with your partners, you don’t connect.”

Garrett was panting desperately, fighting the new batch of panicked nerves as Anders went to work on the last of the laces on his pants. “Now I’m fairly certain I’ve never had sex with you before, so all this nonsense you’re spouting is just conjecture.”

Anders groaned, the sound one of unadulterated bliss. “Sweet prophet, I love a man who can use fancy words in the bedroom,” he purred. “And I know that sex for you is about power, not pleasure, it’s about the release, not the encounter.” He shucked his pants in one movement, before he could protest the loss. “You, Garrett Hawke, have never lost control before.”

Garrett felt a surge of panic as the cool air rushed against his flushed skin; his hands automatically reached for the blanket to try and cover himself, but Anders batted his hands away.

“Are you being shy now?” he asked, crawling back until they were separated not by inches but by less than a hairsbreadth. Garrett could feel the heat burning off of him, the warmth of Anders’ skin so very close to his own; if he had the nerve, he could reach up and pull him down until the spark that was burning between them could flare into some gloriously messy conflagration. “Isn’t that a bit redundant, given that I’ve already had your magnificent cock in my mouth already?”

He groaned and his half hard member swelled to life; Anders chuckled as he felt the change. “See? The rest of you isn’t reluctant; it’s just this silly brain of yours.” He bent down and placed a soft kiss on the side of his temple, then one above his eyebrow, then between his eyes before moving down the other side of his face. He nuzzled against his ear while his hips slowly ground down against Garrett’s. “Let go, Garrett. Be wild and free and out of control for once.”

“I think feeling out of control isn’t really a problem for me.” He gasped when Anders reached down between them and stroked his hand lazily along his cock.

“Stop thinking,” Anders said; Garrett could feel his smile against his skin. His hand began to move in a rhythm that had his eyes drifting shut and his teeth clenching from the sheer pleasure of it. The man certainly had a way with his hands. “Or, if you insist upon it, think instead about this- think how badly you’ve affected me, how completely and utterly you’ve shredded my self-control. I should want nothing to do with you, and instead you’ve left me fucking my own hand each evening and pretending it was you.”

The imagery was erotically thrilling. “Why would you do that?”

Anders kissed him fiercely, hand squeezing his flesh in a way that made his head spin. “Because you’re just so perfect,” he growled against his mouth, before nipping ferociously. He was grinding, thrusting, his movements so sharp that his pants were likely to leave friction burns. “Fuck, Garrett, do you never look in a mirror? From the moment I saw you, I wanted you naked so that I could suck and lick and kiss at every inch of your amazing body. I wanted your cock in my mouth, in my ass, I wanted to fuck you and be fucked by you. You were so exquisite and you were so determined not to feel what your body wanted it to feel and that was the biggest challenge that anyone could ever have laid out for me.”

Garrett felt like he was about to burst out of his own skin at the fierce wave of heat and lust that Anders roused in him with his words. He found himself kissing him back, returning every bruising, wild kiss with just as much angry passion. And as he groaned against Anders’ mouth, gasping when his hand squeezed his cock in a deliciously slow tug, he allowed himself to admit that maybe this wasn’t such a bad thing… maybe Anders was right and maybe losing control was a good thing, if it always felt like this.

His arms were around him, and his hands couldn’t seem to stay still and he groaned when his grip shifted lower and he found his hands on Anders’ ass- still frustratingly hidden within his pants. He managed a growl that he hoped sounded at least a little intimidating, something to voice his displeasure that wouldn’t make it sound like he was begging.

Which he wasn’t. He wouldn’t beg for this. He would enjoy the moment, see what happened, but he certainly wouldn’t give Anders the satisfaction of thinking he’d broken him so easily.

At the sound of his complaint, Anders chuckled, sucking his upper lip between his for a moment and biting down. “It’s not enough anymore, is it? You want something else, don’t you?”

He growled again. “Fuck you, Anders, you could make it easier for me.”

“I could also make it harder for you,” he whispered, before sitting back and slowly unlacing his pants. Garrett found himself unable to look away, mesmerised by each loosened string and the play of Anders’ slender fingers against the obvious bulge. He realised he was holding his breath when Anders paused, smiling slyly just as he started to ease the fabric down over his hips.


	6. An Intimacy

Anders chuckled softly as he pushed his breeches down his hips, his cock springing free eagerly, as if it had a life of its own. “And I’ll be the one doing the fucking, Garrett, thank you very much.”

Garrett’s eyes widened as he took in his nudity, amazed at the surge of desire that swept through him as he stared… and stared. Anders was smirking as he took his time in slipping free of his pants, tossing them onto the floor beside them and then pausing while Garrett took his time staring. “You look as if you’ve never seen a naked man before,” he said as he crawled slowly to straddle his chest, predator stalking prey. The friction of bare skin against skin was maddening, and they both groaned.

“It’s not really a sight I go out of my way to see,” Garrett said, panting as Anders reached backwards and grasped his cock again, slowly squeezing and running his hand up and down until he was thrusting his hips upwards with each gentle tug.

“Does that feel good?”

“Oh fuck, yes,” he gasped, groaning when Anders shifted his grip.

“That’s good,” Anders said, his eyes half lidded and burning. “Touch me, Garrett.”

Garrett felt a wild swell of lust, followed almost immediately by a rush of panic. This was far more than he’d expected to agree to when he’d set out this evening. “No,” he rasped, moaning when Anders grip tightened.

The mage chuckled. “How are you planning on having sex with a man if you don’t touch his cock?” He gave another torturous pull that had Garrett writhing and grabbing at Anders’ thighs.

Groaning, feeling as if he was in way too deep, he said “I never planned on having sex with another man.”

“And yet here we are,” Anders drawled. “Touch my cock, Garrett. You don’t want to make me grumpy, do you? Or did you want me to fuck your ass furiously and make it a memorable night for all the wrong reasons?”

 _Maker’s fucking Breath_ \- he shouldn’t find that idea appealing at all. He shouldn’t want to feel Anders on him, in him, but he was surrounded by so many sensations that wanted him to feel otherwise- the musky, sweat soaked smell of sex and bodies, the sizzling, craving burn that the touch of his skin and Anders’ roused in him, the throbbing ache in his cock as Anders played and teased and- _oh_ fuck, _he was good with his hands_ \- there was too much heat and too much need in him.

He wanted this. Even if it was only for one night, he wanted it _badly_.

He reached up a shaking hand, sliding fingers up over Anders’ thighs where he straddled his chest. The dusting of soft, tawny hair on his legs was intriguing, but not as much as the nest of dark gold curls that was nestled against the base of his cock. When he hesitated a fraction too long, Anders growled softly and took his hand in his, guiding his fingers to wrap around his flesh. They both moaned at the first touch, and Anders thrust forward. “Oh, yes, like _that_.”

Garrett squeezed tentatively, amazed at how exciting it was to touch him. It was so familiar yet so exotically alien- velvety skin and steely muscles and the faint pulse of blood as it jumped and lurched at his touch. He ran his hand slowly down and up, gasping when Anders mimicked the movement on him.

“Taste me,” Anders purred, holding his cock out towards him like it was some beatific gift. “I want to see you with my cock in your mouth.”

He didn’t panic this time, already well and truly past the point of no return. It wouldn’t be so bad, he assured himself as Anders stroked at his lip with his thumb before replacing it with himself. His size was daunting, and he felt himself hesitate again as he tried to imagine how exactly he was supposed to do this. He hadn’t ever really been on this end of affairs, after all.

“Don’t be shy,” Anders murmured, pressing his cock a little firmer against his mouth. “Just a taste, that’s all I’m asking.”

He could already taste him, and he parted his lips just enough to let his tongue flick out to catch the bead of moisture.

Anders threw his head back as a violent shiver passed over him. “Oh, _fuck_ , Garrett, don’t be such a tease! You’ll kill me.”

He felt a little empowered by that, as the taste of Anders filled his mouth and seeped through his blood. This was the taste of his lover, _Anders_ , who he had aroused and inflamed to this point. Emboldened, he opened his mouth and let him in.

Anders shuddered, his hips rolling forward slightly; Garrett tried not to gag as he found his mouth filled by much more than the tentative taste he’d been meaning to take. The salty, slightly pungent flavour was familiar yet exciting, like the smell of himself when he brought himself to completion by hand… except more exotic, more complex and as he tried to relax and tried not to choke on Anders’ cock, he found the taste buzzing through him like the most potent kind of poison. It was intoxicating, something wild and ferocious that gave him the headiest sense of dominance, something he’d been sadly lacking in the last few hours. Eager now, he attempted to swallow around Anders, his hands on his hips, urging him closer. Anders let out a choked, desperate noise, thrusting once before gritting his teeth and pulling back with a groan.

Garrett felt a surge of disappointment and irritation as Anders slipped free, swiping his tongue over the head as one last act of defiance. Anders growled, the sound desperate and clamped his hands to either side of Garrett’s head, pinning him in place. “There’ll be no more of that,” he rumbled, smashing his lips against his.

When they broke apart for air, Garrett took the opportunity to voice his annoyance. “Sorry I was boring you,” he snapped, unable to help the petty drawl to his voice. Well, maybe he meant it. He’d finally caved a little, tried to indulge in this brutal storm of pleasure and give back a little of what he was taking, and Anders had immediately cut him off. Was that an indication of his woeful skills as a lover, or was Anders just not as interested in him as he made out to be?

Anders was sliding down over him, wedging his thigh between his, the slick of skin against skin almost unbearable. “You weren’t boring me, darling Garrett,” he murmured, laying a line of kisses down his jaw. Fuck, when had kisses become so interesting _and_ so arousing? Each one felt like a brand against his skin, and it hurt his pride a little that he wanted to turn his head and capture his lips with his- not enough to stop him from doing it, of course. Anders made a contented noise, what could have been a purr of approval or a self-satisfied hum, and his rumble of laughter shivered through both of them. “Quite the opposite- you were interesting me a little too much for my peace of mind.”

That sounded more promising. “Oh? How interesting?”

Anders let his hand dip down between them again, pulling back onto his knees so that there was space for his wandering fingers. He kept himself propped over him with his free hand, and he wasn’t so unaffected anymore; his breath was panting from him, his skin flushed with heat and his lips swollen from the bruising, marginally violent kisses they’d been inflicting on one another. “Interesting enough that all I can think about right now is letting you suck and nibble and swallow, teaching you how to pleasure a man until you know just how to make me scream.”

Garrett let out a strangled groan as Anders’ fingers slid down the inside of his thigh and ran quickly down the cleft of his ass. “I could learn now,” he said with a gasp, squirming at the light touch. “We don’t have to, you know, try to do-”

“There’s no point in being shy now, Garrett,” Anders said, nipping down his neck with enough force that each bite would likely still be present in the morning. His fingers made another dip, lingering for a fraction of a second over the puckered ring of muscle that Garrett had never considered particularly sexy before but was fast revising his opinion. “I intend to fuck you blind tonight, so you can’t get out of it just by coyly offering to learn the best way to suck me off.”

“Anders, you-”

There was a whining creak, something that had them both freezing instantly in alarm, but it was no good. Their combined weight and their wild movements over the last ten minutes were too much, and the simple wooden frame on the cot bed couldn’t handle it any longer. There was a resounding crack, and the frame collapsed beneath them, sending them tumbling onto the floor in a tangle of limbs and broken pieces of wood.

Garrett felt the air whoosh from him as Anders landed awkwardly over him, an elbow digging into his ribs on impact. They went sprawling together, rolling to a stop on the floor a little ways away from the wreckage of the flimsy cot. Lying together on the ground, panting and pained from a half dozen little scrapes and bruises. Anders lifted his head from Garrett’s shoulder, looking around at the mess they’d made before looking down at him sheepishly.

“Well, fuck,” Anders said inadequately.

Then they were both laughing, shaking with stupidly great attacks of giggles, clinging to one another as they struggled to breath. Every time they nearly managed to stop, they would look at each other and burst into fits of laughter all over again. At one point Garrett found himself kissing Anders, breathless little nips against his mouth as they both gasped for air and fought to regain their composure.

He finally calmed down enough to speak his mind. “Not exactly what I had in mind when I was thinking of a romantic evening,” Garrett said weakly, digging his knuckles into the aching place on his side.

Anders chuckled softly, his leg tossed casually across his waist; the embrace pressed the other man’s cock firmly into his hip, and it was still hot and hard and when Garrett moved his hip experimentally Anders groaned in delight and thrust gently against him. “I wouldn’t really call what we’ve been doing up until now romantic,” he said wryly. He turned his head and placed an open mouthed kiss to his shoulder, making Garrett shiver. “Although, I did assume that if I stopped to woo you, your brain would have a chance to get in control of things and you’d run screaming through the door.”

It was fascinating how quickly he’d become accustomed to being naked with him. “So instead you decided to appeal to my cock,” he said, unable to help the smile that played over his lips.

“Appealing directly to your cock does have a certain charm,” Anders drawled, stroking his fingers along the softening member. A rush of heated blood had it just as hard as before, as his hand began to move slowly up and down. Garrett let his eyes drift shut, delighting simply in the sensations. “But I could make it romantic, if you wanted me to.”

Garrett cracked open one eye, peering up at him. “And now I’m distinctly mistrustful of your angle,” he said wryly. “That’s a remarkable change of tact from two minutes ago, when you were being so growly and forceful.”

“As much as I would love to pound your ass until you scream,” Anders purred, letting his fingers dance down again to play at his entrance, “I’m well aware that it’s hardly the best way to introduce you to the joys of sex.” His eyes grew serious for a moment. “Garrett, if you truly want to walk away, I’m not going to force myself on you. But I’d dearly love for you to stay.”

It was hardly a well-balanced argument when his fingers were doing half of the talking for him. His touch was feather light, tracing slow deliberate circles around his asshole until he was writhing from a mix of pleasure and nervousness.

Feeling mischievous, and to hide his uneasiness, he said “Will you let me fuck you?”

Anders grinned. “Perhaps some other time,” he said casually, as if he’d been asking about something insignificant like borrowing a pair of shoes. “I’ve been fantasizing about deflowering you for weeks now, and I’m not about to let the opportunity pass me by now that you’re sprawled so deliciously naked on my floor.”

“So now I’m giving it up to a smarmy mage on a dirt floor in Darktown?” Garrett said, letting out a completely undignified sound when Anders pushed slowly against him with his finger. He nearly bucked off the ground at the invasive, peculiar sensation. “ _Fuck_ , Anders!”

Anders was staring down at him with a wildly intensive look in his eyes. “Just relax, Garrett,” he said softly, pushing a little harder. It was not a bad feeling, but it was so vastly outside his realm of experience to date that he didn’t know what to think. It burned a little, the stretching of muscles not accustomed to the shallow forays, but it also felt… good. More than good. “Just feel me there and let your body take me in.”

“ _Anders_ ,” he rasped, feeling heat and desire and pressure building in him anew.

Anders shushed him gently, pressing his lips to his ear to nuzzle and whisper “Do you like that?”

Garrett tried to relax, although the raspy way that his breath hissed from him probably ruined his charade. “You know what my answer is.”

“Mm, but I want to hear you say it,” he murmured, his finger slowing working in a little further before sliding out in a gentle parody of sex. It stretched him, an achy sort of burn that was not entirely unpleasant; certainly it was enough to intrigue him into further exploration but…

“Screw you, Anders,” he grated, trying not to grind his hips down against his hand.

Anders covered his mouth with his, the gesture soothing and intimate, not as frenzied as some of their earlier kisses had been. “I’m trying,” he murmured, smiling slightly as his tongue proceeded to invade his mouth in the same rhythm that his finger slid in and out of his body. Garrett groaned at the twin sensations, the ache becoming less of the painful variety and more of the delectable, yearning variety. “We’ve already come so far- why is it so hard to admit that you like having me inside you?”

Garrett gasped when Anders bit down on his lip, sucking it between his teeth gently. “Why is it so important that I do? For fuck’s sake, you’ve got practically everything you wanted!”

“Not everything.” Anders nipped down his jaw, soothing each little burn with a swipe of his tongue. “I said I wanted to break you, and yet you are remaining stubbornly obstinate, insisting on being defiant.” When he began to press into him with a second finger, Garrett let out a choked noise that made Anders pause. “Too much?”

He was panting, and he felt insane urge to hide his face against Anders’ chest. “It’s just… different.”

The other man dropped a disarmingly soft kiss against his lips and said “Wait here.” He withdrew, easing his finger from him and then climbed to his feet, his cock still gloriously erect, before disappearing towards the back of the clinic. When he returned, he was holding a little bottle, a look on his face that sent a little shiver down Garrett’s spine. “What’s that?”

“Something to help introduce you to the glorious world of sex,” Anders replied easily, coming to kneel beside him again.

Garrett couldn’t help but roll his eyes at that. “I’m more than acquainted with the world of sex,” he growled as Anders ran his fingers slowly down his torso.

“Mm, but this is a little different. Will you admit that you want to submit to me?” He was rolling the oil bottle around between his hands; somehow he even made that seem like an explicitly erotic act. All he could think of was how good those hands felt on him, _in him_ and while he could admit that to himself, it hardly seemed fair to admit as much to Anders.

“I would say ‘over my dead body’ but given that I’m naked on your floor that seems a bit redundant.”

There was a sparkle of fire in Anders’ eyes as he uncorked the little bottle. “More than a little.”

The drizzle of the oil on his skin made him shiver and moan, the liquid just cool enough to have him squirming. And then the oil was followed by a hot hand, as Anders ran his fingers slowly down his stomach, drawing teasing patterns, fingers slipping and sliding. When he grasped his cock with oil slicked fingers he groaned, arching into the touch.

“Say you want it, Garrett,” Anders said softly. He eased his hand away from his cock and slid it further down the inside of his thigh; when his fingers danced up to the tight ring of muscles again Garrett fought to hold back his moan of delight. “Say you want me inside you.”

As the tip of his finger glided inside, aided by the lubrication of the oil, Garrett couldn’t maintain his resistance any longer. The smells and the tastes and the sounds… every one of his senses was being bombarded with Anders and sex and he couldn’t fight what he desperately wanted. “Oh, fuck, Anders- _yes_. Yes I want you inside of me.”

“See, now, that wasn’t so hard was it?” Anders ran his hand slowly up Garrett’s thigh, his fingers tracing lightly up his cock until he was shivering; his finger plunged in with a little more force, the rhythm a little more demanding of him. Garrett reached up and buried his hand in Anders hair, clutching desperately when the mage turned his head and placed a kiss against his wrist, tongue flicking over the frantic pulse.

“You’re a fucking tease,” he rasped, letting out an undignified noise when Anders slid a second finger into him. The scissoring motions had him writhing, the stretching mingling with the pleasure.

“I’m not a tease, darling Garrett.” Anders slid down beside him and tugged him closer, pulling him into his arms until his back was flush against the sweat and the heat of his chest. He could feel his cock, hard as a stone in his lower back; some wild impulse made him roll his hips back against him, but his victory was not completely smug when the movement made Anders’ fingers curl inside him and he choked back a cry. “You’ve just never enjoyed sex up until now; no wild, animal fucking, no frenzied abandon. It’s not teasing when it’s a normal part of the sexual dance that you’ve just ignored up until now. You get what you want and then you leave- but I’m not letting you get away so easily.”

Garrett moaned as Anders nuzzled on his shoulder, teeth grazing just hard enough to sting. “For fuck’s sake, you’ve got what you wanted- why are you still wasting time lecturing me?”

Anders wrapped his arm around him even tighter, keeping him pinned in place as he eased his knee between his legs. “Because I enjoy educating you on the dreadful failings in your sex life,” he purred, his hot breath curling against his ear; they both groaned as oil slicked skin slid together with the most delicious friction. “I want you to know what you’ve been missing out on; I want you to always think of me when you fuck someone else.”

With the ache of the foreign intrusion dying away, Garrett was panting, whimpering as Anders slid his hand lower over his stomach and brushed against his cock, all the while keeping up the maddening rhythm with his other hand. “What if I let someone else fuck me instead?”

His laugh was smug and decadent, his mouth hot against his neck. “As if you would let someone else have any kind of power over you like this again. I’m surprised you let me, to be honest- I was expecting much more of a fight from-”

“Oh, fuck, Anders, just shut-up and fuck me already!” Garrett shivered as adrenalin surged through him; he stilled as he felt Anders’ fingers pull out of him, replaced by something much larger and much harder, pressing firmly against his entrance.

Anders nuzzled against his ear, his breathing just as ragged as his. “This might not be very comfortable to start with,” he murmured, rubbing his cock against his ass until they were both gasping. “But it won’t last, and I’ll make you feel so good by the end, I promise.”

Refusing to acknowledge the spike of fear within him, Garrett gritted his teeth and tried to sound unaffected. “I’ll believe it when I- _nngh!_ ”

There was pressure, a burning ache that made him squirm and try to pull away out of instinct; Anders tightened his grip on him, arm holding him firmly to his chest. “Deep breaths, Garrett.” He held still, running his lips up and down his neck, murmuring softly to him- nonsense words, encouraging words, beautiful words. Garrett tried to work through the conflicting desires in his body, the unpleasant sensation of invasion against the arousing and surprising desperation for Anders to simply surge forward and fill him, to have him buried to the hilt inside of him. Anders’ free hand stroked slow, lazy circles over his stomach, brushing against his cock teasingly. “There, I can feel you relaxing; are you okay? Do you want me to stop?”

Garrett turned his head to the side and managed to catch Anders’ mouth with his. “If you stop now I’ll have to kill you. Or have my way with you.” It was false bravado, but he needed to say something, _anything_. He could feel himself trembling, tumultuous emotions ripping through him as they perched on the edge of that moment, only just joined by the barest of margins.

Anders groaned against the side of his mouth, kissing him absently. “You’re still fighting me,” he groaned, though he sounded delighted. “Oh, Maker, Garrett- you feel so fucking _good_ and you’re still fighting me every inch of the way. You make me feel like some marauding conqueror.”

He pushed a little further in, easing the sting by taking Garrett’s cock in his free hand and toying with it, little teasing squeezes and dancing fingers that always seemed to know the perfect way to touch and tease and play. It was enough to distract him from the ache of the intrusion, and when Anders rocked his hips against him gently, Garrett shuddered at the sparks of pleasure that the movement began to send through him.

“Oh, _fuck_ , Garrett.” Anders was not sounding as controlled as he had a moment earlier; his breath was rasping as he ran his lips over his neck, his jaw, his shoulder. There was something wild about the way he moved against him, sinuous and only just treading the line for control “Please tell me that feels good, because it feels _amazing_ for me.”

It wasn’t terrible by any stretch of the imagination, but it certainly wasn’t amazing. “It’s… okay,” he said honestly; at the very least he was overwhelmed by the sensory aspects of it- the sensation of being surrounded and filled and dominated was incredibly new and arousing, even if he couldn’t admit that out loud.

“Only okay?” Anders nuzzled at his ear, tugging on the lobe with his teeth. “We’ll have to fix that then.”

He let go of Garrett’s cock and reached between them, his hand sliding down Garrett’s leg to grasp him firmly above the knee. With a little pressure to guide him, he pulled Garrett’s leg up and over his upraised knee, twisting them together and changing the angle at which they were joined. Keeping his hand firmly on his thigh to hold him in place, he rocked against him again; this time the motion set off a flare low in his belly and he gasped. “Better?” he crooned into his ear.

He turned his face up to kiss the mage. “Not bad,” he conceded gratingly, nipping at his lip as he panted desperately for air. With each little twitch of their bodies, the sparks within him where Anders was merged with him burned a little hotter.

“Not bad could always be better though.” For the first time, Anders thrust into him with a little more force, the gentle rocking abandoned- and Garrett arched back into him when he touched something exquisite within him.

“ _Anders,_ ” he rasped desperately, at the same time that the mage chuckled “Found the right spot did I?” Garrett twisted a little, dragging Anders down to kiss furiously, crying out against his mouth when he thrust into him again with the same result.

Anders began to build a rhythm, the ache of the stretching fading quickly in the face of whatever it was that he was doing to him. Each thrust brushed against _that_ place deep within him, making him writhe and cry out hoarsely; the friction of their bodies was fast becoming exhilarating, and as he felt everything that Anders had accused him of never feeling- he felt wild, he felt frenzied and out of control. He felt like he wanted to scream and sob and beg, his pride thrown shamelessly out the window now that he was here at this point. This was fucking, but it was more than that- it was wild and primal and animalistic and when Anders murmured for him to pleasure himself, he eagerly took himself in hand and began to pump and squeeze to the rhythm of the other man’s thrusts.

Anders was incredible; there was no other word for it. His skin was slick with sweat, and he glistened in the candlelight, like some burnished golden god. “You like this, don’t you Garrett?”

Sweet flaming prophet, he was _so close_. “Oh, Maker, yes.”

Anders was kissing him, his mouth drifting all over his skin as if there was an intoxicant on his body that the mage was desperate to lap up. “Tell me you like it. Tell me you like me inside of you. _Say the words!_ ”

He could feel it beginning within him. “ _Anders!_ ” he cried out, his own movements becoming erratic, heat and pleasure surging up from deep inside of him. Just as he began to spill into his hand, Anders growled against his neck and hissed his name, an almost agonized plea, bucking against him twice more before shuddering violently as he fell over that same precipice.


	7. A Quandary

They lay entwined together, gasping and panting for air, shivering as the last tremors wracked through them. The only words Garrett could think of at that moment to describe how he felt were-

 _I just gave myself up to a possessed apostate Grey Warden on the ground in the sewers._

“Oh, _Maker_.” Anders had his head buried against Garrett’s neck, his breath curling over his hypersensitive skin and making him shudder. The mage loosened his grip on Garrett’s thigh, sliding from him slowly and making them both groan at the friction. “I really should do something terrible to you right now for defying me, but I feel far too good to be bothered.”

“I didn’t defy you,” Garrett murmured, taking a risk and pressing a kiss to the top of Anders’ head; his hair, those golden-red strands that proved an eternal point of fascination for him, were not exactly silken to the touch, but there was something glorious about them anyway. “I did everything you wanted.”

“Mm mm, no you didn’t.” Anders levered himself up onto one elbow with a great deal of effort. His lips were swollen and his hair was a mess but the sated, smug look in his eyes made him look glorious. “I told you what I wanted to hear, and you didn’t say it. If I’d kept my wits about me I would have made you earn your orgasm; now I’ve spoiled you, you’ll expect the same treatment next time.”

 _Next time_. Garrett felt something wild and jittery lurch around inside him at those words. He swallowed uneasily. “You are…” Beautiful, sexy, egotistical, devastating, remarkable, demanding, arrogant, gorgeous- he couldn’t find the right word that explained the immensity of what he felt in that moment. The depth of his feelings was terrifying; it was just sex and regardless of how earth shatteringly good it was, sex did not explain the severe onslaught of emotions he felt as he stared up at the mage leaning above him. He wanted to kiss him, stroke his hair away from his face, or just nuzzle up against him. _Cuddling_. He wanted to fucking cuddle him. What the hell was wrong with him?

As his hesitation grew, the final word undecided, Anders chuckled softly and kissed his temple, before slumping down beside him. “Stop trying to use that pretty little brain of yours and just let go for once, Garrett,” he said, throwing his leg over his hip and dragging him closer. “You don’t need words right now.”

Despite his better judgement, Garrett tentatively let himself relax against him, let the warmth seep into him, the smells of sex and elfroot and Anders wrapping around him and lulling him to sleep.

***

Garrett woke first, blinking groggily and shivering against the chill in the air; he reached for the blanket as errant thoughts flitted through his head. Mostly he found it odd that it was so cool- Gamlen’s house hardly even qualified for the title, but it was rarely ever freezing like this. Kirkwall nights were usually only tepid at their worst, so why was-

His hand brushed against a warm body, and remembrance flooded back into him. Anders. Anders and _sex_. Oh Maker, hot and desperate and wild and passionate _sex. With Anders._

He opened his eyes slowly, as if the scene would be different to what he expected. But no, there he was: fast asleep before him, his head cushioned on his arm and his glorious red-gold tumble of hair falling loose across his cheek. His face was soft in the dim light, the hardness that was present when he was awake absent; he went from being devastatingly sexy to being breathtakingly beautiful, something soft and gentle and not at all like the dominating sexual deviant from the night before.

This was… incredibly awkward. He wasn’t used to affairs that lasted an entire night- most of his trysts were done within half an hour, at most. What was protocol? Was he supposed to kiss him and cuddle into him? Was he supposed to thank him for the previous evening, as if they’d merely enjoyed supper together, and then go on his merry way? Was he supposed to jump on him, ravish him and offer himself up for ravishing as well?

Cowardice seemed the easiest option. Easing himself away from the sleeping mage, he crawled out from under the blanket and scrounged around in the dark for his clothes; glancing over at him, he felt something soften within him, guilt and something sweeter mingling together.

He dug through the mess on the back table, finding a scrap of paper that would do for what he needed. He scrawled Anders a quick note, stumbling over the phrasing- I’ll see you later? Come meet me later? I’ll come see you later?- and in the end there were more crossed out sections than there were actual words. He dropped the note beside Anders on the ground, hesitating when he saw the peaceful look on his face and the strands of coppery hair that drifted over his cheek. If he just reached over and brushed them aside-

 _What are you doing to yourself, Garrett? As if this wasn’t complicated enough already; shouldn’t even be leaving a note. Just get out of here before he wakes up._

He slipped out of the clinic, shivering in the chill morning as he eased the door shut behind him. He winced at the few small twinges and aches in his body, feeing a flush creep across his face as he recalled the reason for those aches. Maker, he couldn’t believe he’d done that; he couldn’t believe he’d enjoyed it so much! Here he was desperately concerned about Bethany’s ability to withstand the charming mage, and yet he’d fallen so very low so quickly. He’d let Anders pin him to the ground in Darktown; he’d let Anders _fuck_ him, for crying out loud, even begging for it at the end. He couldn’t ever live that down if word got out, nor could he live with the knowledge that he didn’t think he could regret it.

Last night was supposed to have been about protecting Bethany; while he knew that he’d certainly distracted Anders sufficiently, he didn’t know what in the Void was going on now. What was Anders expecting of him, if anything? Was it a one night stand, or was he expecting to take certain liberties all the time now? And why did the thought of letting Anders take control again, letting go of the mask of discipline and severity that he wore so fiercely, appeal so much? Why did the tender moments from the night before keep drifting through his head with just as much frequency as the passionate ones? Anders, whispering sweet encouragements to him when his fear got the better of him; Anders taking the time to kiss him, to seduce him as if he were genuinely interested in him; deft fingers that were never demanding, only ever gentle and teasing…

Oh Maker, what had he gotten himself into.

No one was up yet when he made it back to Gamlen’s hovel, and he didn’t really feel like going back to bed. With no idea of what to do to pass the time, he stoked the fire up and hung the iron kettle across the embers again. After a few minutes the water was hot enough to make a drink, and he pottered about absently before slumping into a rickety chair at the table. He winced, adjusting his posture- turns out the stories about not sitting down for a week afterwards had some measure of truth to them.

He heard the door open from the bedroom and glanced over his shoulder, stiffening when he saw Beth stumble bleary eyed into the main room. “Morning,” he said casually, turning back to his drink. Tea- he was drinking tea. Of all the beverages he absolutely never drank, he had somehow absently grabbed the one that smelled like Anders. His cock stirred a little at the thought of the mage and what he tasted like, and Garrett bit his tongue to keep it progressing any further.

“Morning,” Bethany rasped, wiping at her eyes as she reached for a mug. “I didn’t hear you come home last night- you must have been out really late. Have you even been to bed yet, or was it just one long party all night?”

 _I’ve been asleep on the floor after a wild sex session, if that counts._ “Nah, I’ll get some sleep later,” he said, deftly avoiding the question. “What about you? How was your evening- was it a nice boring evening in the presence of the Maker?”

“What? Oh, no, it was fine, just fine. We went to the Chant, and it was a very nice service and nothing happened.”

Garrett blinked. “I didn’t ask if anything happened, I just asked if-”

Bethany jumped to her feet, her face scarlet. “Stop interrogating me Garrett!” She was clearly trying to sound angry, but he knew her too well to be fooled. “You’re so suspicious of me, and it’s not like I did anything wrong at all last night! So just… back off!” She stormed back into the bedroom and slammed the door.

He blinked again. Well, that was odd.

Anders didn’t turn up all day, and as the afternoon wore on, Garrett began to get more and more fidgety. This was even worse than the previous day, when he’d been waiting to see what Anders wanted from him. Not knowing was torturous, unaware of whether Anders was angry at him or disappointed with him or was profoundly grateful to have avoided an early morning conversation with an unwanted bed mate…

He and Bethany set off for the Hanged Man just as the sun was dipping below the western gates of the city. They were each lost in their own thoughts, Bethany suspiciously so after having been so snarly at him yesterday. At a loss for anything else to do, he reached out and poked her in the shoulder as they walked. “Something on your mind, Bethikins?”

She started, as if alarmed by his touch. Something guilty flickered through her expression before she hid it. “You’re quiet,” she said, somewhat awkwardly.

“So are you,” he snapped, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. He might have been more concerned about her evasive attitude all day, if he hadn’t been obsessing over Anders. Anders, glistening in the candlelight, sweat and oil making his skin slick; Anders, his stubble rasping over his neck, his teeth biting down on his ear; Anders, his moans and gasps echoing in his ear as he thrust into him. Garrett clenched his ass tightly as remembered pleasure made his blood pulse, the feeling of Anders coming inside of him still burning in his thoughts. Thank the Maker it was getting dark and nobody could see the colour blooming in his cheeks.

Bethany hesitated before replying. “You’re reflective; you don’t do that often. Did something happen last night? Did you do something stupid? Nobody got hurt, did they?”

 _Well, I may have broken Anders’ heart by running off like that, or I could just be way too sure of myself and his affections._ “Nah, nobody got hurt, it’s fine. Why are you so defensive tonight?”

She pulled open the door to the Hanged Man and glanced back at him; the near panic in her eyes gave her away instantly. “I’m not defensive. Who said I was defensive? I’m fine, you’re just far too suspicious of me.”

“Who’s suspicious of you?” Isabela had been lurking near to the bar and swaggered over to join the conversation; Merrill appeared in her wake, grinning brightly at them. “Is that delicious piece of Templar Captain cooling off already? Aw, and I thought we had him on the hook for sure!”

“Bela!” Bethany hissed, her face flushing bright red.

“I can’t believe you flirted with the Knight Captain,” Merrill said, giggling into her hand.

It took quite a few seconds for the conversation to sink in fully. “You _what?_ ” Garrett spluttered, at a complete loss for words.

“It was nothing!” Beth stammered, her face crimson, even while Isabela cackled devilishly and Merrill clapped her hands in delight.

“Oh it wasn’t nothing, kitten,” Isabela said triumphantly. “He kissed your hand and everything- you have that Templar quite definitely smitten. And just think of all the excellent sex games the two of you can play! Defiant Blood Mage and Templar Recruit, or Nervous Apprentice and Cruel Templar Captain, which do you prefer? Oooh, have you touched his sword? His _real_ sword, heh heh?”

“I said hello, and we talked and he kissed my… he only just touched his lips to my knuckles, it was hardly a kiss!” Beth sounded almost desperate to convince them, and she kept throwing frantic glances his way.

“Mm, it was disappointing; I was hoping he’d drag you off then and there to a dark corner of the Chantry and shag you senseless. Certainly would have livened up an otherwise dull evening.”

Garrett tried to wrap his head around this new development. “Bethany… you flirted with the Knight Captain? But… you’re a mage! Sweet flaming prophet, what if he’d realised what you are?”

“It was nothing!” Bethany grabbed Merrill by the hand, a desperate expression on her face and began to drag her towards the stairs. “Come on, let’s see what Varric’s doing!”

Garrett stared after them, then turned to Isabela. “And what exactly were _you_ doing in the Chantry, of all places?”

She raised her eyebrows at him before sauntering towards the stairs. “Looking for temptation- same thing you were hunting for last night, apparently.”

Garrett groaned and ran a hand over his face. Great- so Isabela either knew or she had guessed. It didn’t feel as horrifying as he would have once assumed; he wasn’t upset that she knew he’d had sex with Anders, or worried about what this would do for his hard earned reputation. Rather, the only thing he could honestly admit to feeling was… embarrassed, that something so wonderfully, wildly confusing as last night could be public knowledge already. He didn’t even know what last night was yet, what in the Void it could possibly mean, so the last thing he wanted was for it to be a source of gossip while he was still trying to muddle his way through it. Last night seemed like the kind of thing he wanted to keep close and obsess over, fantasizing over every touch and every whisper; it wasn’t the sort of thing that he wanted to swagger into the Hanged Man and brag about to all and sundry.

He wasn’t used to hiding his sexual liaisons, but then this didn’t feel like the mindless rutting he’d indulged in in the past. For one thing, it was one of the few times when he’d known his bedmate for more than an hour before the act, and more importantly it was the only time he could think of where he was likely to remember his bedmate afterwards. Oh sure, he could think of a few times that lingered in his memory, a few fucks that were particularly noteworthy. But could he remember names, faces, the women that went along with those memories? All he had were sounds, and remembered pleasure- he had no idea who went with what. Anders though… he would remember last night in exquisite detail for the rest of his life; even if he lived to be a thousand, the slick skin and the golden hair and the pain that became pleasure would be as vivid in ten centuries time as it was right now.

And after a day of obsessing over that, he still had no idea what any of it meant and what in the Void he was going to say to Anders when he saw him next. He was reluctant to call their intense physical connection _love_ \- even thinking the word sent a surge of panic through his veins, his brain skittering away from the wretched four letters and the implications therein.

It occurred to him that he’d been standing in the middle of the taproom for quite some time now agonising over his feelings for Anders, and the others were bound to be suspicious of what was taking him so long. Gritting his teeth and suppressing the tumultuous emotions still roiling around inside of him- he’d been in a state of semi arousal all day now- he wove through the crowd and headed for the stairs, eager to be away from the ogling stares of the more inebriated patrons. True, in Varric’s room he’d have to put up with Isabela and her far-too-knowing eyes, but he could deal with that.

He hoped.

He knew it before he’d even mounted the stairs; something spiked to life within him, a subtle awareness of his presence. He hesitated halfway up, knowing that with one more step he’d be high enough to see into Varric’s suite, high enough to see his friends assembled and just knowing deep within him that _he_ would be there. Maybe it was Isabela’s insinuation that she knew, maybe there was a hint of leather and black tea in the air, or maybe he was just so attuned to him that he would always know when he was nearby.

He reached the landing outside Varric’s room and hesitated, the tension in his body spiralling rapidly upwards as his eyes fell on the one figure he’d been simultaneously dreading seeing and pining for all day.

Anders looked… pissed off. There was no other word for it; even with his back to the door, even with the way he laughed at some smart comment that Isabela had just quipped, there was something tight and sharp in the way he held his shoulders that told Garrett immediately just how much trouble he was in. He must have made a noise, or Isabela’s expression was enough of an indicator, for Anders turned his head lazily, the smirk still playing over his lips as their eyes met.

There was something dark in his gaze, and there were lines of tension around his mouth even though he was smiling. As Garrett walked hesitantly towards him, he crossed his arms over his chest, his body language radiating hostility even though he smiled easily and leant back in the chair as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

“Garrett,” he said smoothly- _fuck, too smoothly,_ Garrett thought with panic rushing through him. “And here I was thinking you weren’t actually coming this evening. I thought you were just going to _abandon_ us all and do whatever silly little thing amused you.”

A cold sweat broke out on the back of his neck, and he tried to steel himself. He’d faced darkspawn at Ostagar, for crying out loud, and he’d made deals with the Witch of the Wilds- he was no pushover! There was no reason why he should feel the need to cringe and apologise desperately until the smile on Anders’ face became genuine instead of forced. Maker, he was even two inches taller than him! He would not be cowed or intimidated by a dominating sexual deviant who made him want to beg and plead and agree eagerly to every sordid little thing that he-

Garrett bit his tongue and adopted an easy smile. Something flickered in Anders’ expression, a hint of annoyance that he hid quickly.

“If I chose to do that, it’s nobody’s business but my own,” Garrett said casually, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms to match Anders’ posture. Admittedly he felt anything but casual at that moment; seeing him threw every second of last night into stark relief and it was almost like being back there again. Entwined on the floor, sweat and oil making their bodies slide together, the freedom in giving in and succumbing to something raw and wild and _fuck_ he was getting hard again. “It’s not like there’s anyone who has any claim over my time, after all.”

“I wasn’t suggesting there was,” Anders said glibly, eyes darkening with what could have been anger or lust. Garrett noticed, with a flare of panic, the red graze just below his jaw that could be nothing but the bruising remnants of one of his kisses. It was at the right angle too- with Anders behind and above him, he reaching up and back to fist his hand in his hair and drag him down to kiss while he arched back into him…

The wave of desire that swamped him just then made him immensely grateful to be leaning against the door. He tried his best to sound flippant as he said “I mean, who’s to say I wasn’t just going to drop Bethany and run?”

Anders’ lips twitched, his smirk a little crueller than a moment ago. “I’m actually more inclined to think that would be your first course of action. Running seems to be your strong suite I find.”

At that little jibe, Garrett clenched his jaw so fiercely that it was a wonder his teeth didn’t shatter from the pressure. He would have remained blissfully oblivious to the fact that the rest of their friends were still in the room had Isabela not cackled at that moment and said “Oh look, the first lover’s spat! That didn’t take long at all!”

“Isabela, this is not-!” He gritted his teeth for a long moment, fighting to get his temper under control. Anders, for his part, seemed content to sit and smirk nastily. Counting to ten before speaking didn’t seem to help things at all, because his temper did not improve in the slightest and it gave him time to hear Merrill and Bethany whispering to each other from the far side of the room. So much for being discreet until he had a chance to muddle through his feelings.

He pushed off the wall, fighting the urge to cross his arms petulantly or clench his fists at his side. “Anders, may I have a moment of your time?”

The mage stretched languidly as he came to his feet. “Only a moment? Why am I not surprised in the slightest? Stamina is so underappreciated these days don’t you-”

“Anders!” If the floor had opened up and swallowed him whole at that moment, he could not have been happier.

“Coming, _darling_ ,” Anders said loftily, smirking still as he reached the doorway. His voice dropped to a volume that would ensure that no one in the room behind them would hear. “Did I say that last night at all? I don’t believe I did. I would have said I’ll save it for next time, but I’m disinclined to believe there will be a next-”

With a frustrated growl, Garrett grabbed Anders by the front of his jacket and shoved him against the wall beside Varric’s door. Anders let out a grunt of surprise as he hit, opening his mouth to object or argue but Garrett didn’t let him finish. He followed him as he pushed him, pressing him into the wall and covering his mouth with his.

For a moment it was nothing but bliss.

There was nothing to be confused about, nothing to get angry about or embarrassed over. For a long, beautiful moment in time it was just a kiss, just the two of them, and Garrett lost himself. Kissing Anders, he decided, was an extraordinary escape.

There was the smell of soap and leather, sweat and ale; Anders tasted once more of tea, his skin salty where Garrett’s lips brushed past his mouth. Anders was warm, the heat of him burning through both sets of their clothing to leave his own skin flushed; Garrett pressed himself closer, one hand still fisted in the fabric at the front of his jacket, the other resting on the wall beside Anders’ head as he leant into him. It wasn’t soft or gentle by any stretch of the imagination- thankfully Garrett had caught him by surprise and Anders didn’t fight him to start with.

He was bolder than he had been last night, driven by frustration and exasperation, and for the first time Anders followed while he led. The mage let out a small moan, a sound of surprise and desire, and Garrett did his best to replicate all the terribly wonderful things that he’d learned last night. The tangle of tongues, the heat of Anders’ mouth, the taste of him… he groaned as he felt Anders’ hands slide down his sides, fingers digging into his hips and anchoring him. It was subtle, but with a slight tilt of his head Anders very abruptly took over the kiss, and Garrett found himself clinging to him rather than holding him in place. And just like that Anders was in control again, coaxing and nibbling and sliding his leg between Garrett’s and-

A catcall broke them from their little bubble, shattering the illusion that it was just the two of them with the entire world to themselves. Wrenching backwards- and glancing for a brief moment at Anders’ kiss bruised lips- Garrett turned to see Norah smirking from ear to ear as she carried a tray of drinks into Varric’s room, very pointedly not looking at them.

Caught out, Garrett let his hands fall away from Anders while his cheeks burned, feeling immensely awkward again. Anders, for his part, reached up calmly and corrected his jacket where Garrett had crinkled the fabric in his fist. Despite his uneven breathing and the way his hand touched almost absently to the corner of his mouth, his eyes were still dark with anger. “And what exactly was that supposed to be in aid of?” he said coolly, leaning back against the wall.

The question threw him a little. “I… you were angry. I didn’t know how… I’m not particularly eloquent when it comes to apologising. Or talking in general, for that matter.”

Anders’ eyes narrowed. “Oh, I’m angry am I? How convenient that I have you here to tell me what I’m feeling. Whatever would I do without you here, young Garrett?”

The mocking response made his face burn. “Don’t patronize me,” Garrett spat, running a hand through his hair so that he wouldn’t reach forward and throttle him instead. “I’m sorry I left like that, okay? But what did you expect from me, really?”

Crossing his arms, body language just as hostile as it had been in the room minutes earlier, Anders said “Gee, I don’t know, maybe I was expecting you to act like an adult, and not run and hide in your room all day. Would that have been too much to ask for?”

“You _knew_ last night was new for me.” He stabbed his finger accusingly into Anders’ chest. “You can’t just expect me to take all of that on board and not struggle with it. You made fun of the fact that I’ve never connected with a partner before- and you know what? You’re right, just like you’ve been right about everything else, making me jump every time you snap your fingers.”

His eyes darkened. “That was never my intention-”

“Don’t bullshit me,” Garrett snarled, turning away abruptly and stalking to the other side of the hall. He took a calming breath before turning back to him. “From the word go you’ve known what you wanted from me and you made sure you got exactly that, without stopping to think about how the speed of this-” He gestured between the two of them-“ was going to affect me. So I’m sorry if what you wanted and what I wanted didn’t entirely match up in the end!”

Anders was silent for a moment, eyes flickering over his face, before pushing off the wall and coming slowly towards him.


	8. A Surrender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not a full chapter yet- LJ is playing up while the maintenance is ongoing, so here's parts 35 and 36, which will become a full chapter at a later date.

Garrett felt a shiver roll down his spine at the look in Anders’ eyes, and unwittingly took a step backwards as he approached.

“Let me get this straight,” Anders said smoothly, placing a hand on Garrett’s chest in a gesture that was a little too soft to be a shove, a little too firm to be a caress. “You think that I took what I wanted from you, without regard for your precious _feelings_ , and that you feel you didn’t find the satisfaction you wanted last night. Correct?”

“I…” Wait, was that what he was feeling? He wasn’t unsatisfied with last night, he just couldn’t work out what it meant. “No, I didn’t say that.”

“But you’re certainly thinking it loudly.” Hurt flickered through Anders’ eyes before he masked it again. “I’m sorry you didn’t enjoy yourself last night Garrett. My mistake really- I mistook all the begging and kissing and your orgasm as a sign that you found some pleasure in what we did together. I apologise for not paying more attention.”

Garrett didn’t know whether to punch or kiss him. “You are the most infuriating human being in all of Thedas, you know that? I didn’t say I didn’t enjoy myself! I just…” He threw his arms in the air. “Gah, what’s the point! You clearly don’t give a damn what I have to say.”

Anders moved so quickly he hardly had time to get an arm between them; as it was, the mage didn’t even notice his attempt to push him away, shoving him into the wall and grasping his chin firmly. “I’d appreciate it if you’d stop putting words in my mouth, Garrett,” he said softly, leaning in so close that Garrett was certain he was going to kiss him. “This whole mess started because you assumed that my interest was in Bethany, rather than you, and _then_ you assumed that you could toy with my affections without repercussions to lure me away from her. You assume that I don’t give a damn about your pleasure or your opinion and then this morning you slunk away before we could even talk and have given me no chance to defend myself.”

The soft, threatening way he spoke shouldn’t send a spike of desire through him. It really shouldn’t. “I didn’t slink away! I just… I just don’t know what you want from me, and I didn’t really feel like hanging around to find out.”

Something softened fractionally in Anders’ gaze. “You don’t know what you want from me, but when you think I’m angry your first response is to kiss me senseless in a public hallway? Don’t you think that’s rather telling?”

“Oh dearest Anders,” Isabela called from the room in a singsong voice, “stop being difficult and just be naked! It’s what everybody wants!”

“Speak for yourself, wench,” Fenris growled, while everyone else laughed heartily. It was enough to break the tension between them, and Garrett laughed awkwardly and dropped his gaze, while Anders’ smirk gentled until it was a more genuine smile again. The hand holding his chin in place slid slowly around the curve of his jaw, his thumb sweeping up to his bottom lip.

“Would you rather we had this conversation somewhere more private?” he said, his voice dropping to something distinctly sultrier than it had been a moment ago. “Somewhere where we’re not likely to end up in the pages of Isabela’s friend fiction?”

“Wh-what-” He bit his tongue in horror when he realised he’d stuttered, too distracted by the thumb brushing teasingly over his lip. He swallowed uncomfortably, momentarily side-tracked by the look in Anders’ eyes that was less angry and more… heated, before asking “What is friend fiction?”

“Mm, probably something you’re not quite ready for,” he replied cryptically, tilting his head to the side as he contemplated Garrett’s mouth, a smirk dancing over his own. Garrett, for his part, couldn’t stop himself from staring, wondering how they’d abruptly gone from fighting to… whatever this was. “Do you want to go and talk, Garrett?”

He would have put money down on the fact that talking was the last thing Anders had on his mind. “I… there’s not really anywhere we can go. I mean, we could go all the way back to your clinic… um, if no one was there, of course.” He felt his cheeks burning and fought the urge to scowl. “But there’s not really anywhere else-”

With a flick of his wrist, Anders produced a key. “Isn’t it nice that they extended your bar tab to include an overnight room?” he said slyly.

The temperature of his blood went through the roof. The key gleamed in the low light, so much more than just a key. It was an offer, a lure towards something much more than just a single, stupid night on the floor. Would there be talking? Undoubtedly. Was Anders making this offer with the assumption that he could seduce him into doing something else? Absolutely.

He tried for a lazy grin, failed badly, and managed to force out “What is it about this place and blonds offering me uninhibited sex in private rooms?”

Anders snorted, eyes sparkling with humour and lust. “Don’t you dare compare me to that tart down at the bar the other day. You would have fucked her and gone on your merry way an hour later; you wouldn’t even have recognised her a week later. Whereas if it were me… it you’re able to sit down a week later, I’m not doing something right.”

Desire and confusion warred within him as he stared at the key. “Anders, I-”

“If you don’t know if you should say no, that means there’s a bigger part of you that _wants_ to say _yes_ , Garrett.” He was on him before he could even open his mouth to answer, the kiss firm but not demanding. Garrett groaned as Anders pressed him into the wall, their positions reversed and he just as helpless to resist him as he had been last night. He had a hand in his hair, that glorious fall of gold quickly loosened from its tie, and Anders had a hand on his hip, holding him in place; he felt like he was drowning in him, so quickly lost in the heat and the tangle of tongues and the press of lips and the way Anders rubbed his thigh up against his cock. It was bewildering and sexy and he wanted this again, _fuck_ , he wanted Anders…

Blessed Maker, they were necking like a pair of randy teenagers in the middle of the Hanged Man for anyone to see- and he couldn’t find a single sensible reason to object to it.

When Anders pulled back, eyes dark with need and lips kiss bruised, Garrett couldn’t find any words that seemed right for what he felt, the confusion and the lust and the desire to please and pleasure all churning wildly inside of him.

So he only stared.

He let Anders lead him, following along obediently as the mage led him to a nearby door with a sly grin; when the door clicked closed behind them, he acted only on instinct and instruction, too bewildered to do anything else. He let Anders coax him towards the bed, shucking clothing obediently as they went, succumbing to those slow, drugging kisses in between each step, his pulse growing erratic and his breathing shallow.

Anders pushed him down onto the bed, climbing onto his lap with the careful grace of a predator stalking prey. They were both down to breeches alone, their other clothes strewn in a path from the door to the bed, and as Anders ran his hands slowly down his ribs, fingers dancing and crackling with faint hints of electricity, he couldn’t stay silent anymore, letting out a strangled groan when Anders ground himself against him.

“Shush, Garrett,” Anders teased softly, nipping at the curve of his ear. “These walls are thin- you don’t want the others to hear what we’re up to, do you?”

“I don’t-” He buried his face against Anders’ throat to muffle the choked sounds he made when the mage dipped his hand into his pants. As Anders palmed him, stroking his cock with lazy caresses that made him buck upwards, he tried to control himself and regain control of his mental faculties. But with skin sliding on skin, the smell of musk and sex in the air, and Anders touching him _like that_ , trying to think was like trying to stand on the edge of a crumbling precipice.

“Anders,” he rasped, putting a hand up between them. The other man paused, a wonder in itself that he’d not simply growled and kissed away his objections; Anders tilted his head to the side, his hair across his face. He kept his hand on Garrett’s cock, slowly fondling even as he panted softly for air. Unable to help himself, Garrett reached up with his other hand to brush the hair out of his eyes. “What is… this?”

Anders’ eyes softened. “What do you want it to be?” he asked softly, turning to nip at his fingers, sucking gently when he captured one between his lips.

Garrett groaned, his hips pressing upwards. “I don’t know. Was… hoping you’d have a better answer for me.”

Nuzzling into his palm, Anders said “Does it need a name? Does it change anything, not having a name for it?”


	9. Chapter 9

“I don’t…” His breath hissed from him as Anders stroked him with a little more determination. He hesitated, distracted by physical sensations and the way the mage moved against him, so sinuous and graceful; with a moan he closed his eyes and buried his face against Anders’ chest, hesitating before sucking down on a nipple.

Anders made a purring noise that, if possible, heated his blood even more. “That’s right, Garrett,” he murmured, arching a little into his mouth. “You want this, don’t you? You’ve had a taste and now you need more, so much more than-”

Garrett dragged his mouth away and pulled Anders down, tugging fiercely on his hair to wrench him up to kiss. “You talk too much,” he growled, before covering his mouth with his.

The mage seemed to take that as a challenge; he nipped at Garrett’s lip and pulled away, smirking when Garrett reached for him again. “Grown a little backbone, have we? Think you can catch me off guard with a kiss or two and that puts you in charge?” He pushed Garrett back onto the thin mattress, crawling over him and rubbing his thigh against his cock until they both groaned. “No more fighting, eh?”

He tried to tug him down, the thought of skin to skin immensely appealing at that particular moment. “Well, if you’d _cooperate_ ,” he snapped, frustrated by Anders’ apparent need to play. This ridiculous, passionate intimacy was still unnerving, and he felt exposed as Anders leant back to inspect him, despite his half clothed state.

“You want me to cooperate? See, unlike some people, I can manage that.” He didn’t give him a chance to offer some snide comment in retaliation, stripping him of his breeches at a speed that really should not have been human. When Anders grasped him and squeezed firmly, Garrett bucked upwards, crying out hoarsely. “Tell me that’s what you wanted, and I’ll give you more.”

Garrett let his head drop back against the pillow, a groan forced out from between gritted teeth. “Of course it’s what I fucking wanted!”

“Oh look, now was that so hard? I was considering punishing you tonight for being so insolent this morning but you’ve made me feel indulgent; perhaps I’ll spoil you instead.”

He bent down and placed an open mouthed kiss to Garrett’s stomach, swirling his tongue over skin while Garrett hissed in a breath. Between them, his cock jumped, no longer contained within Anders’ grip and aching with that familiar need for attention. The second kiss was a little lower, on the line of his hip, and he fought not to whimper at the excruciating agony of the wait.

Anders seemed to pause deliberately, hovering over him while hot breath curled over skin still wet from his kisses. He tried to concentrate on breathing, just breathing, not thinking at all of the sexual deviant drawing out his torment by licking softly against the top of his thigh. “ _Anders_ ,” he ground out.

The mage chuckled. “Sorry love, but you lost any and all privileges when you ran off like that. You can’t tell me what to do here- you just have to sit back and let me have my way with you.” He bent down and ran his tongue slowly from the base of his cock all the way to the crown, ignoring the half shout that Garrett let out. “Admit it- admit that you’re mine to play with.”

“ _Yours_ , Anders, fuck, yes-”

“Now tell me you’re sorry,” Anders said, tonguing him and teasing him, pretending to take him into his mouth before pulling back at the last second. “Say you’re sorry for running off like that, for presuming to know my feelings.”

Garrett fought not to buck up into his mouth, writhing and biting his tongue to avoid yelling out desperately. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he babbled, his hips moving of their own accord as Anders continued to tease. “Anders, fuck, _ah!_ I’m sorry!”

Anders nuzzled at the head, tongue playing over the slit and lapping up the pre-cum. In one quick motion, he took him into his mouth, swallowing half his length while Garrett turned his head into the pillow to muffle his choked cries. “Now tell me you’ll never do it again. Tell me it was a mistake and you’ll never run off without my permission ever again.”

"Never,” he moaned, lost in a haze of lust and wild need. At that moment, if Anders had asked him to agree that the sky was purple he would have agreed in a heartbeat. If agreeing meant more… oh Maker, the heat of his mouth and the way he used his tongue and _oh fucking Maker_ swallowing around him. “Oh, _fuck_ , Anders-”

Anders tore himself away from his cock, surging up to his mouth; Garrett could taste the hint of himself, the salt and the slight bitterness, but he didn’t care. If anything it made things wilder, and he dug his hands into the other man’s hair, anchoring him to him. “Now?” Anders gasped from between brutal, bruising kisses.

He didn’t need to elaborate further. “ _Now_ ,” Garrett said, almost a plea. Begging. Maker, he didn’t care.

He was almost pleased to see the wild, desperate way that Anders stripped himself of his breeches, smugly satisfied to see the other man just as affected as he was. When his cock sprang free Garrett reached up to touch, but Anders swatted his hand away. “None of that,” he growled, tugging his pants down and kicking them off over his ankles. “Too fucking close for you to be playing _now_.”

Skin to skin… _Maker_. Just the touch and the heat alone were almost enough to tip him over the edge.

He went to turn onto his side, assuming their positions from the night before would remain unchanged, but Anders stopped him. “Stay there,” he rasped; from seemingly out of nowhere he produced that damn vial again, and Garrett had a moment’s satisfaction when he saw his hands shaking with the stopper. “I want to see your face when you come.”

Garrett bit his lip to bite off the moan, confused a little at how Anders expected this to work from this angle. His blood was near to boiling as he watched the mage spill the oil hastily over his cock, slicking himself up before turning his attention to Garrett.

When Anders slid a finger into him he tasted blood in his mouth from biting down too hard; his hands were all but clawing into the sheets either side of his hips. The burn was there, that aching stretch, but nowhere near as bad as the night before, and Anders gravitated almost magically to that spot within him and- “ _Anders!_ Sweet fucking Maker!”

The mage laughed, but it was strained. “Maker, you’re beautiful like this, all spread out before me.” He played for a moment longer before impatience won out, and Garrett’s curiosity as to how this was going to work was sated when he knelt between his legs and half dragged him over his lap- just enough so that his ass was off the bed.

Their eyes met as Anders pushed himself into him; Garrett let out a choked cry both at the chaotic mix of sensations, pain and pleasure, while Anders shuddered violently, fingertips digging ruthlessly into Garrett’s hips to pin him in place. The first thrust was slow, almost like a little experiment, to see that they were both together in this moment… and then something leapt to life in Anders’ eyes.

He was not gentle with him like he had been the night before. His thrusts were wild, his entire body heaving into the motion and he slammed into him time after time. The slap of flesh against flesh was almost drowned out by the sounds they made, the gasps and the bitten off curses and the strangled desperate noises that only grew worse the wilder they grew in the movements.

Anders lifted him up higher on his lap, changing the angle while his chest heaved; his hair had come loose at some point, and he just looked so glorious.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Anders choked, his eyes wild. “Garrett, you need to come _right now_. Touch yourself, make yourself come… _now!_ ”

Garrett fumbled for his cock, hands tangled in the bedsheets; he was slick from the oil that Anders had drizzled liberally over them, and he slid over his own flesh easily. It only took two or three strokes before his back was arching up off the bed, pressing him down onto Anders while his body pulsed and spasmed. He let out an undignified sound as he spilled over his own hand, the moment pushed higher as Anders continued to pound into him.

The mage didn’t last much longer. His eyes grew wide and his head dropped down onto his chest as he thrust one last time, clutching desperately to Garrett’s hips as he buried himself inside him as he came.


	10. A Beginning

There was a moment of hazy, pleasurable incomprehension, and then Anders slumped down on top of him, his arms winding around his waist quite naturally. Anders’ slid from his body, both of them shivering at the last little shudder of pleasure, and then they were silent, save for the desperate panting as they tried to catch their breath. Entwined together, they drifted off for a few minutes; unlike last night, Garrett didn’t feel that urgent need to flee. Well, maybe only mildly. Slightly.

Anders chuckled softly, stretching languidly against his side. “So, it occurs to me that if I’d flirted with Bethany the day you walked into my clinic instead of you, you would have gotten jealous earlier and tried to seduce me weeks ago.”

Garrett felt… oh Maker, he was _blushing_. “I was not jealous.”

“Liar,” Anders said with a snicker, leaning over him and brushing his mouth over his. Still short of breath, it was soft and clumsy, gasps of air stolen from one another. “Poor little kitten, I hope she’s not heartbroken that I prefer more rugged types. Although I wouldn’t necessarily be averse to perhaps inviting her along one evening-”

“Blessed Maker, no!” Garrett’s blush deepened, and he latched onto the first thing he could think of to turn the subject away from _that_. “Though I wouldn’t be that worried about her being heartbroken; apparently she’s already moved on.” He told him what Isabela had revealed, about Beth and the Knight Captain. Maker, a _Templar_ \- what was she thinking? _Small talk after sex, that’s new too. First cuddling, now this._

Maybe it was talking about the threat of his baby sister being wooed by a Templar, or maybe it was just the uncertainty from broaching new ground and actually spending time with a lover, but he knew he was getting angry. Anders seemed to recognise it too, his hand rubbing in slow circles over his stomach as a way of soothing him. As if he were a damned Mabari and could be placated with belly rubs.

Sad thing was, it worked.

“Aw, getting overprotective again are we?” He felt Anders grin, squirming when the mage pressed a kiss to his chest. “Should I be jealous? Am I going to catch you blowing the Knight Captain to keep him away from your sister too?”

Garrett growled, and swatted half-heartedly at him. “As if I even got a chance to do that properly to you.”

Anders smiled slyly. “The night is young,” he said glibly, “and I’m not at all adverse to you playing.”

Now there was a terrifying thought- spending a decent amount of time on Anders’ cock. He’d half choked last time, and Anders just seemed to know instinctively the best way to tease and taunt and perform… what if he bored him? What if he choked again? Fuck, wouldn’t that just be the most awkward sexual encounter of his life, choking to death on his new boyfriend’s cock.

And that was just even _more_ awkward, his brain catching up a few seconds too late to stop himself from thinking those fateful words.

 _New boyfriend._

 _Anders… mine?_

“You went tense,” Anders murmured, his face pressed into his collarbone. “You’re thinking of something unpleasant again.”

Garrett swallowed uncomfortably. “No I’m not.”

Anders sighed. “Oh, Maker, Garrett, you’re such a liar. Are you going to run away in the night again?” Each word was like a pretend kiss, his lips so close to his neck that they brushed over his skin like a deliberate caress. “Don’t tell me I have to chain you to the bed; I didn’t bring anything to deal with naughty Fereldan farm boys.”

Maker, the bastard managed to make everything sound like some erotic game. “You…” Garrett paused, thought hard for a moment. Reached a decision. Took a deep breath. _Here goes nothing._ “You don’t have to chain me. I’m not… going anywhere. Assuming you want me to stay, that is.”

Anders levered himself up onto one elbow. His face softened as he smiled, _genuinely smiled_ , without any calculating gleams or twitching lips to indicate a smirk. “I’d like that,” he said, before he bent down to kiss him.

 

***

 _Back in Varric’s room…_

“Pay up,” Isabela said, snapping her fingers impatiently.

“Rivaini,” Varric said warningly, but she just shook her head.

“No getting out of it, dwarf. You two as well-” She pointed at Fenris and Aveline. “Coin purses out, mama wants to see that gold.”

The trio groaned and reluctantly began to count out the required amount, passing it sullenly to where Isabela sat grinning from ear to ear. Aveline, looking decidedly uncomfortable, glanced at Bethany and said “Sorry about that, Beth. We didn’t think he’d actually… _you know_. I would never make a bet on your brother normally!”

Beth picked at a thread on her sleeve, her eyes demurely downcast. “Oh, that’s fine Aveline. You know I don’t think anything bad of it, it’s all just silly games.”

Aveline still looked pained. “It’s still… I apologise. I should not have done it. Especially not on such a personal matter.”

Bethany lifted her gaze, a calculating gleam in her eyes. “No, you probably shouldn’t have. Not without asking me which side to bet against first.” She turned to Isabela. “My share, if you don’t mind, Bela?”

There was a moment’s stunned silence as Isabela tossed one of the coin pouches her way.

“Sunshine,” Varric finally choked, “you were _in_ on this?”

The littlest Hawke fluttered her eyelashes and adopted a doe eyed expression. “Oh, you remind me of him,” she said breathily, “the same strength and conviction, tempered by gentleness.”

Isabela cackled delightedly. “It was her idea!”

Aveline looked particularly dumbstruck. “Bethany… you set up your own brother?”

She huffed out a laugh, rolling the coin purse around in her hands. “Oh please, Garrett’s been staring at men for years now. Anders was the first person we’ve ever met who didn’t seem intimidated by him or likely to take any of his silly machismo nonsense, so I thought… why not?”

“Pardon me for stating the obvious,” Fenris growled, “but in the short time I’ve known him, Hawke has done nothing but immerse himself in the attention of women. What could possibly make you think he’d succumb to the allure of another man?”

“Women’s intuition,” Bethany said with a straight face, before smirking a little. “Plus I’ve had to share a room with him for years. Sometimes he thinks I’m asleep at night and I… _overhear things._

Varric muttered something that sounded like “Too much information,” and Aveline moaned about never being able to look him in the eye ever again. Merrill, positively vibrating with curiosity, planted her elbows on the table and leant forward.

“But then, what was last night about? Why did we go to the Chantry- was that whole meeting with the Knight Captain deliberate?”

Bethany flushed a rather vibrant shade of pink. “Oh! Um, that was… in case Garrett needed the house, it gave me a legitimate reason to not be at home. And I couldn’t be at the Hanged Man, in case he went there too. Meeting the Knight Captain was just… an unintentional side effect. Besides, he’s a Templar and that’s just ten types of wrong.”

Isabela smiled delightedly. “Sweet thing, if we can corrupt Garrett in the space of three days until he’s running into Anders’ arms at a full sprint, then we can certainly snare a Templar for you. Just say the word and he’ll be naked with a bow in your bed before sunset.”


End file.
